


Heat of the Night

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Homelessness, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Organized Crime, Past Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 48
Words: 186,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Steve is a cop. Bucky is the kept boyfriend of the super rich bad guy. Bucky doesn’t really have any information because his sole job is to look good when they go out. But he gets Steve’s card and he calls him and Steve meets him for lunch and coffee and dinner and Steve knows this could be a bad thing. He knows Bucky could be a trap. But the way he talks, how he smiles at Steve, laughs like it’s a sound he’s not used to making...Steve thinks he could be worth it. Steve thinks he could be worth everything. (via tumblr user disappointme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is Chapter One

It was routine by now. Something major went down on the streets, the department got a tip from their number one source. The source everyone knew to be involved in whatever it was that was happening--Alexander Pierce. But since he owned half the department, and more than half the city at that, it wasn’t as though they could touch him even if they had enough evidence to go after him. This time was different though. Plenty of people went missing, and that included cops. What it didn’t include, was honest cops, what few of them actually existed in their fine city.  


“This isn’t right, Steve.”

  
“I know, Nat,” Steve replied from the passenger seat of the unmarked car. “That’s why we’re checking it out ourselves.”

  
“It’s not like Barton to not check in. He wouldn’t just go off the grid. He’d let me know…”

  
“Which is why Fury has already reported him missing,” Steve interrupted, hearing clear the worry in her voice. Natasha wasn’t one to show emotion all that regularly, so for Steve to easily pick up on it in her voice meant this was hitting her hard. “Don’t worry, Natasha. Sam and I are on our way there now.”

  
“We got this, Nat,” Sam called as he turned into the gated driveway. “You know we’re all over it.”

  
She sighed, so Steve could tell she heard him even though she wasn’t on speaker. “At least let me meet you guys there.”

  
“No. You need to sit this one out.”

  
“No way, Steve. There’s no way, I’m--”

  
“At least for now, Nat. This one’s personal for all of us, you especially, given your history with Barton.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond to that. “We’re here. We’ll call you when we’re done here.”

  
“As soon as you leave.”

  
“Roger that.”

  


Steve hung up the phone and looked to Sam, who glanced over at him with something of an uneasy grin. Neither of them had ever actually been to Pierce’s home before. Sure, they’d done interviews down at the station with the man before, and that had just been the same give or take bullshit that always went down during his trips to give his supposed leads. Not that they didn’t sometimes pan out. But when they did pan out and lead to the arrest and conviction of a wanted criminal, it was because Pierce wanted it that way.There was no telling why he’d called for someone to come up to see him now on this Barton thing.

  
Sam stopped the car in front of the gates and let the window roll down so he could speak to the woman in the guard hut.  


“Can I help you officers?” She asked, half paying attention to the television in the booth.

  
“How ya’ doing,” Sam greeted her, lifting his badge from off his belt to show her clearly. “I’m Detective Sam Wilson, this is my partner Detective Steve Rogers. Mr. Pierce should be…”

  
“Yeah, he’s waiting for you,” She said as she opened the gates. “Just follow driveway up and park in the roundabout. I’ll call up to Mr. Rumlow so he’ll be there to see you in.”

  


Giving her a haphazard salute, Sam rolled the window back up and continued the drive up to the house.  


It wasn’t often that there was an awkward silence between Steve and Sam, but this was one of those times. Clint Barton was one of the few honest cops left around these parts, and given how the honest cops were all recruited to work under Captain Nick Fury, they tended to get a bit protective of one another. Clint hadn’t checked in two days ago when his shift ended and no one had heard from him since--not even Natasha, his partner, and occasional lover. Fury had reported him missing right away, and just this morning they’d gotten Pierce’s call.  


“You don’t think Barton got himself into some shit, do you?” Sam wondered as he put the car in park.

  
Steve shrugged one shoulder. “Hard to tell. Clint isn’t exactly reckless, but it’s not like he hasn’t gotten into a mess or two. Nothing he’s never not been able to handle, I mean, even if that meant calling one of us at least.”

  
“Yeah, but…” he hesitated before getting out of the car. “Nat’s right. Something feels wrong this time.”

  
He didn’t need to say it out loud, but Steve figured it made him feel better to do so. So he figured it would make Sam also feel better to hear him agree with it.

  
“You’re right. It does.” He said back to him. “So let’s see what we can get from doing this.”

  


At that, they both got out of the car and headed towards the house. It was a huge place, which was, of course, to be expected. Still, the sheer enormity of the house was simply overwhelming. There were three stories, maybe four, it was hard to tell from the outside, with two separate wings and grand windows everywhere the eye could see. Several balconies stuck out of the outside walls, presumably from bedrooms within the place. An ornate marble staircase led up to the double glass and wooden doors. A huge marble water fountain, that could have easily been transformed into a pool, sat just beyond the driveway and in front of the house.  


“Modest,” Sam muttered as he and Steve headed towards the house.

  
Steve sniggered. “Did you expect less?”

  
Brock Rumlow, Alexander Pierce’s head of security, came towards them, trotting down the front steps, hand extended. He reached Sam first and shook his hand.

  
“Detective Wilson,” He greeted with a sly grin before moving to Steve. “Detective Rogers. Mr. Pierce is just inside. Right this way.”

  
“Snazzy digs he’s got set up here, huh, Rumlow?” Sam commented as he and Steve follow Rumlow up the front steps. “Easy to see why you’d sell your soul.”

  
Steve smirked. Ahead of them, Rumlow let out a quiet laugh. Sure, Sam was insulting him in a somewhat polite way, but it wasn’t like he was about to take offense to it.

  
“I guess you can call it one of the perks,” Rumlow answered, pushing both of the doors in to open them. “Working for a great man like Pierce does offer many of them.”  


It didn’t take much to ignore the statement. That didn’t mean Steve didn’t want to scoff at it. Sure, working for a man like Alexander Pierce got someone like Brock Rumlow--who had, over the years, basically earned himself the place as the boss’ right hand man--would indeed get perks and advantages for the soul tainting deeds he’d done to get him there. But then there was the matter of participating and carrying out the soul tainting deeds that he’d done to get him there. Rumlow’s hands were red. And no amount of washing would ever clean them.  


“Mr. Pierce is in the sitting room,” Rumlow told them as he led the way through a few rooms of the almost fully open concept floor.  
When they reached the room, the furthest room to the east, they found Alexander Pierce sitting on one of the two fabric-covered loveseats. One of the room’s walls was made almost entirely out of windows, the late morning sun shining brightly through them. He’d been reading a book and lowered it to his lap a second after he noticed he had company.

  
“Ah, Detectives,” He greeted with the same, yet more convincing, sly grin that Rumlow gave them. “Thank you so much for coming.”  
“Anything for you, Mr. Pierce,” Sam replied.

  
“More importantly, anything for one of our own,” Steve added, pulling out his notepad to get right down to business. “We’re told you can give us some information on Detective Barton?”

  
“Right to it, eh?” Pierce said. “Can I get you gentlemen anything first? Something to eat? Drink?”

  
“No, thank you,” Steve answered for both of them. “We really just need to hear whatever it is you need to tell us so we can get down to finding Clint Barton.”

  
“Yes, yes, understandable,” he nodded. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have much. But I can tell you that a few...associates of mine did see him two nights ago at the Rabid Rabbit just a little before the shift change. He was talking to Maya Hansen.”

  
“Maya Hansen?” Steve wondered, stealing a glance over at Sam who also paused in his note taking. “Aldrich Killian’s right…” He hesitated slightly when Pierce looked up at him, “hand?”

  
He nodded. “His vice president of operations, yes.”

  
Aldrich Killian was the founder and CEO of A.I.M, a scientific corporation known for war profiteering and just as corrupt as Pierce. It was no secret that Killian and Pierce were rivals, even if Killian had yet to pose any significant threat to Pierce’s reign.

  
“What would Barton be talking with her for?” Sam asked, more to Steve than to Pierce. “He wasn’t working a Killian case, was he, Steve?”

  
“Not that I know of,” he told him. “Did these associates of yours happen to hear what Clint and Hansen talked about?”

  


Like he was about to answer, Pierce’s mouth opened. But instead of forming any coherent word, it simply opened wider. A second later, Steve heard the glass door on the wall several feet behind him and Sam, the one that led outside, slide open. Nothing could have prepared him for who walked in.  
He was a young man, around Steve and Sam’s age, at least fifteen to twenty years younger than Pierce. A few inches shorter than Steve, his body was lean and muscular, and, at the moment, glistening with moisture. Water dripped a bit from his shaggy hair as he walked with an upstart’s strut across the room. None of that was what really caught Steve’s attention, or made Sam do his best to hold in a laugh or made Pierce falter over his words. It was the fact that this man was completely naked that did all that.

  
He smiled though, an arrogant, crooked smirk that showed off most of his front teeth, as though what he was doing was perfectly normal. The soft sounds of his feet touching the white tiles of the floor were cut off momentarily as he reached the edge of the oriental rug that covered the center of the room. When he reached the back of the couch Pierce was seated on he paused to rub Pierce’s right shoulder.  


“You didn’t tell me you were having guests, Alex,” He whined. “You never introduce me to any of your friends.”

  
“This is a business meeting with Detectives Rogers and Wilson, Bucky,” Pierce replied softly. “It wouldn’t interest you.”

  
Bucky huffed slightly and jerked his knee before glancing up at Steve and Sam. The irritation that was most clearly forced vanished when he caught a glimpse of Steve desperately trying to look away, and his eyes wandered from Steve’s face, down to his feet and back to his face again. That smirk appeared again.

  
“You’re Detective Rogers?” Bucky asked. “The one I’ve read about in the papers?”

  
Keeping his eyes anywhere but Bucky’s lower half, Steve managed to nod.

  
“And you’re Detective Wilson, huh?” He asked Sam. “No wonder they never put your pictures in the paper. Everyone would be lined up to join the force for a chance to work with you two.”

  
Embarrassed by the flush in his cheeks, Steve did what he could to maintain his professionalism. He was here for business, like Pierce had pointed out. He was on duty. This wasn’t the place to think about this person’s, this Bucky’s, body and all the things that they could do together. From just a few inches next to him, Steve could tell Sam was still stifling his laugh.

  
“I think it’s time for you to go now, my boy,” Pierce said to Bucky, guiding him in closer by his wrist and kissing his cheek. “And for the love of God, put some clothes on.”

  
Bucky pecked the top of Pierce’s head as he straightened back up. “Anything for you, Alex.” He gave parting wave of his fingers to Sam and then a wink and a slight lick of his lips to Steve. “See ya round, Detectives.”

  


He left then, but because of the open floor plan, they could see him until he reached the staircase and turned to go up it. It wasn’t until Pierce cleared his throat and called his attention back to him that Steve realized that he’d been staring after Bucky that entire time.

  
“Did you want to know what my sources told me about your friend or not, Detective Rogers?”

  
“Er,” Steve swallowed uneasily. “Sorry, uh, yes, please, go on.”

  
“Okay then,” Pierce was no longer embarrassed by the appearance of the naked boy. “Barton and Hansen were overheard talking about a shipment down by the docks.”

  
“Shipment?” Sam questioned “What kinda shipment?”

  
“That I’m not sure of, but I do know that the only shipment due in that night was for Georges Batroc.”

  
Steve exchanged a quick glanced with Sam. They were both on the same page without having to say a word.

  
“Anything else?” Steve asked.

  
Pierce shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But I’m sure if you speak with Ms. Hansen, you’ll get some more answers.” He picked up the book from his lap and stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Detectives, I have some other matters that I need to attend to.”

  
“Thank you for all your help, Mr. Pierce.” Sam told him as he and Steve put their notepads away.

  
“Of course,” He responded, already walking out the same way Bucky had. “If there’s any other way I can help, don’t hesitate to get in contact with me. Mr. Rumlow can show you out if you have any troubles.”

  
“No,” Steve assured him. “We’re fine on our own.”

  
“Very well. Good day to you, Detectives.”

  
They waited until Pierce had gone up the stairs before exiting the way they’d come in. Neither of them said a word until they stepped outside.

  
“You think he was telling the truth?” Sam asked.

  
“The whole truth? No. But I doubt he was lying about what he said.”

  
“And the thing about Batroc?”

  
Steve took in a deep breath. “You think Fury sent Barton out after him?”

  
“Last I heard that’s what we were going to be doing. Something about him being our link to taking Pierce down once and for all.”

  
“Yeah, but how does Maya Hansen fit in? Batroc has always been business partners with Pierce.”

  
Sam shrugged. “Dunno. But Pierce did just give his name up. Maybe a deal went sour.”

  
“Possible. We should talk to Fury. Maybe he’ll have some insight on it.”

  
“I’m gonna call Nat first. She’s gonna wanna meet us down at the station.”

  
Hearing the same worry in Sam’s voice that Steve felt deep in his gut, Steve gave him a pat on the back.

  
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Sam.”

  
Steve wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more. His partner, or himself.


	2. And Now This is Chapter Two

Bucky leaned over the railing of the balcony, his hip cocked to the side, while he watched the two detectives as they made their way back to the car parked in front of the house. He took a bite of his apple, sucking in the sweet juices so that they didn’t dribble down his chin the way Alex hated. When that Steve Rogers fella pat Sam Wilson on the back, he stopped chewing and twisted his lips. Something about that little bit of contact between the two men down there made him slightly uncomfortable. There was something so affectionate about it, even Bucky could see that there was so much love between the two of them from just that one little pat.  
He couldn’t explain what emotion ran through him, but Bucky was suddenly struck with some sort of loneliness. The idea was absurd. There was no reason to feel lonely. He had everything he wanted right here. The love between Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson was no different than the love Alex gave to him. In fact, the love Alex gave to him was better. After everything Alex had done for him? That was a no brainer.

“When you want attention, my boy, all you have to do is ask for it.”

  
Bucky grinned. Still bent over the balcony, he kept his eyes on the unmarked car as it drove down the driveway.

  
“You’ve been so busy lately, Alex,” He replied, biting into his apple and continuing with his mouth full. “I thought I should remind you that I was around.”

Though Bucky had yet to turn around, Alex stepped onto the balcony with him and placed his hand on Bucky’s bare back. Sure, he’d told him to put some clothes on, so Bucky had put on a pair of boxers. Alex hadn’t specified how much clothing to put on. 

“Stand up straight, Bucky.”

Doing as he was told, Bucky stood up. Though a few inches taller than Alex, Bucky still felt tiny in his presence. He was nothing without Alex. Years together had proved that. 

“What were they doing here?” Bucky wondered. “Don’t you usually go to see them?”  
“Usually,” Alex agreed. “But this was a special case.”

Bucky turned to face him, and found that Alex was also looking in the direction that Rogers and Wilson had gone off in even though they were already gone. He didn’t like that Alex’s attention was so focused on the direction that Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson went. Something about the situation didn’t feel right. Two cops showing up to Alex’s home? It wasn’t the way they normally did things. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, unable to keep the slight wobble out of his voice.

  
Alex reached out and cupped his hand to Bucky’s face. “Nothing you need to trouble yourself with, my boy.”

  
“But…” Bucky swallowed uneasily. “You’re safe, right? They’re not…”

  
“No one is going to take me from you,” Alex paused, likely noting the way Bucky was biting down on his lower lip--a telltale sign of his anxiety. “Or you from me.” 

With a nod, he tried not to show any more of his apprehension. It was tough though. If their pattern was going to be thrown off, Bucky prefered it to be him to be the one who threw it off, or, at the very least, be told about it beforehand. It didn’t matter how well he understood how things worked around here, or what being Alex’s boy meant. Patterns and routines made Bucky comfortable. They’re what kept him safe from his past.

  
Alex sighed, almost like he was disappointed in Bucky’s unwillingness to be convinced that everything was fine. Bucky shrunk into his shoulders, ashamed that he upset him.

“Come here,” Alex exhaled sharply and held his arms out.

  
Folding his lips in, Bucky gently let himself melt into Alex’s reassuring hold, resting his head on his shoulder.

  
“Now, tell me, James,” Bucky’s stomach clenched with butterflies at the sound of his birth name. “Who are you?”

  
Bucky sniffed. “Your boy.”

  
“And what do I want for my boy?”

  
“For me to be happy.”

  
Even from his position resting on Alex’s shoulder, Bucky could feel that he nodded at his answer.

  
“That’s right. I won’t ever do anything I don’t think is in my boy’s best interest,” Alex then pinched Bucky’s side hard enough to make him yelp and jerk up and away from him. “Which includes not letting you get away with trying to embarrass me with your tasteless behavior downstairs. You know I don’t tolerate you acting so inappropriately, Bucky.”

  
Head lowered, Bucky peered up at him through his eyelashes and gave him an impish look, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit.

  
“I know it.”

  
“Then why do you do it?”

  
With a twist of his lips, Bucky shrugged. It’s not like he had a real answer for him, not one that Alex would accept anyway.

  
“You don’t know?” Alex scolded, his voice no longer having any hint of playfulness left to it. “No, I think you do know. I think you do it just to make me mad. Is that what you want, James? Do you like to make me mad?”

  
“No, Alex!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his palms out as though that would make him seem even more genuine. “No, I swear! I just…I mean...I…”

  
“Because if the thanks I’m going to get for taking a deviant off the streets and inviting him into my home, then by all means, you’re very welcome to leave. I don’t need someone to cause me any undue stress, let alone going out of their way trying to make me angry.”

Though Alex never raised his voice, it was firm and harsh the entire time he spoke. The very second he said his last word, he turned away from Bucky and strode back into the house.

  
Bucky felt the rush of tears hit him hard and he tried desperately to wipe them all away before any of them could force their way out of his eyes. His attempts were for naught. They fell anyway, out of his eyes and right down his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep them back. A tremble slithered through his limbs and he went after Alex.

  
There was a heavy pit in his stomach, and it only got heavier when he couldn’t find him right away. Bucky searched the entire second floor to no avail. Normally, if he did something that made Alex mad, and Alex walked away, he was somewhere close by. He didn’t usually disappear like this. Terrified Alex really meant what he said out on the balcony about him leaving, Bucky felt the panic begin to rise as he raced down the stairs of the east wing and into the room where he’d caused all this. It was empty. He tried to kitchen. Alex wasn’t there, but Brock Rumlow was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

“Where is Alex?” He asked Mr. Rumlow.

  
Mr. Rumlow just glared up at him from his paper. Bucky rattled his head. He knew better than to speak to any of Alex’s higher ups like that.

  
“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “Do you know where Alex is?”

  
Going back to reading the paper, Mr. Rumlow smacked his lips together as though Bucky’s presence was irritating to him.

  
“Mr. Pierce is in his office.”

Bucky nodded and dashed out of the kitchen towards Alex’s office, slowing only when he was a few feet in front of the door. His hand shook when he raised it to the door. Taking in a deep breath, Bucky gathered the courage he needed and knocked twice.

  
“Yes?” Alex called from inside.

  
His voice no longer held that firm, stern tone to it. Not yet anyway. Alex still didn’t know who was there for him though.

  
Bucky slowly pushed the door open and stood just in the entranceway, not brave enough to fully step inside. Once Alex saw who it was, his face went cold and he pushed his chair away from his desk. Fingers laced and elbows resting stiffly on the arms of the chair, he tilted his head back slightly as he waited for Bucky to say something. When Bucky didn’t, Alex lifted his eyebrows, lips still set in a line.

“Well?”

  
Bucky let out an uneasy breath. “I was lonely.”

  
“You were lonely?”

  
He nodded. “Yes. I haven’t seen you in almost four days. I missed you.”

Alex sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and released it through his mouth, licking his teeth as he did. He leaned forward and beckoned Bucky to come into the office with his fingers.

  
The second he had permission to enter completely, Bucky hurried to where Alex was seated and tossed himself at his feet. He threw his head in his lap and felt an immediate sense of relief when Alex ran his fingers through his hair.

“What am I going to do with you, my boy?” He murmured. “Look at you, making me act this way.”

  
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I was just lonely. I won’t do it again.”

  
Alex let out a soft chuckle. “Sure you will. Old habits die hard. Next time you’re lonely,” He coaxed his chin up so that he could look into his eyes, “Just come and see me. I’ll make time for you, you know that.”

  
Bucky sniffled, this time able to keep the tears under control. “Okay.”

  
“Now, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  
Giving Alex a sheepish grin, Bucky pushed his hair behind his ears. “I’ve been lonely, Alex. Do you think we could spend some time together today?”  
Alex smiled and reached over to his desk to close the ledger he’d been writing in. He stood up, and Bucky waited until he held his hand out for him to get up.

  
“Come on, my boy. Let’s go for a swim. I hate to admit it, but you did look rather ravishing back there.”

  
Bucky tried not to smile too much as Alex led him out of his office. 

***

Outside, the sun was just set, a soft glow still coming in from the open windows. Not only had they gone swimming in the pool, but Alex had been kind enough to take him down to the private beach so they had no reason to keep their clothes on. Bucky didn’t know when or how he’d done it, but when they got out of the waves a blanket had been set up with a late picnic lunch all ready for them. After they ate, Bucky had been feeling particularly frisky and started kissing the inside of Alex’s thigh. Alex wasted no time and knotted his fingers in Bucky’s hair to bring his mouth exactly where he wanted it.  
By the time they got back to the house, Alex accompanied him back to Bucky’s room and fell into his bed, where Alex tickled him enough that Bucky had to plead with him to stop. He only did when he pressed his lips against his. The last thing Bucky remembered before falling asleep was being held in his arms and smiling.

  
The vibrations of Alex’s phone woke him, but it was Alex’s voice when he answered it that roused him fully. Bucky sat up, leaning back on his elbows when Alex started dressing.

“You’re leaving?” Bucky wondered.

  
“I have work to do,” Alex responded while throwing his shirt back on.

  
Bucky reached out and grazed his back with the tips of his fingers.

  
“But...I thought…”

  
From over his shoulder, Alex fixed his gaze on him and then snatched Bucky’s fingers. “I have to work. And don’t think that stunt of yours is totally forgiven. You’ll have to earn a full night with me again, my boy.”

  
He winced a little at his implications, but knew Alex wasn’t completely angry with him anymore. This was confirmed even further when he got up, put his pants on and then leaned over the bed to give him one last kiss before leaving.

  
“Order yourself something nice for dinner,” He told him as he left. “Something we both enjoy.”

  
“Okay,” Bucky said softly, watching as Alex made his way down the hall. 

That uneasy feeling of loneliness descended upon him in moments and Bucky dropped back down, running his arm across the empty half of the bed. He shook his head. This wasn’t fair to Alex. He’d dropped everything he had to do today in order to spend time with him. Bucky needed to remember that Pierce had done so much for him already and then some.

  
He thought about what he should order for dinner. Something they both liked…

  
Bucky heaved up with a smile to go to the phone on his nightstand to order veal parmesan. It was more a favorite of Alex’s than his, but Bucky didn’t mind. The smell of it would make it feel more like Alex was with him. On the floor was a small piece of paper. Bucky bent down to pick it up and realized that it was a business card which probably fell out of Alex’s pocket.

  
“Alex…” He almost shouted as though he would still be close enough to hear.

  
But when he saw whose business card it was, Bucky’s voice trailed off. He looked from the card to the door and back to the card again. Not sure what to do with it, Bucky set it down on the nightstand and ordered his food, then made sure to call down to the front gates to let them know that the delivery would be coming. He pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped Steve Rogers’ card into the back pocket.


	3. Now We Move on to Chapter Three

“Let’s go over this again,” Natasha requested. “Pierce said that some of his goons saw Clint with Maya Hansen at the Rabid Rabbit?

”  
“That’s what he said,” Steve agreed.

  
“And that they were talking about a shipment down by the docks.” Sam added. “Pierce claims that the only shipment due in that night was for Batroc.”

  
Natasha nodded. “I did some digging and that turned out to be true.”

  
“We have no reason not to believe the rest of it,” Steve pointed out. “Pierce reached out to us. He wanted us to know what they saw for a reason. So Barton probably was with Hansen that night.”

  
“Fury did confirm that Barton was tracking Batroc,” Sam said. “Obviously something made him deviate from his plan and had him at the Rabid Rabbit instead.”

  
“Yeah, but what?” Steve wondered. “What could make him go so off course that he would end up at the Rabid Rabbit?”

The table fell quiet for a few minutes. All they listened to were the sounds of clinking silverware and the chatter of the other patrons at the diner. This was the place all four of them usually met for meals. The one empty seat felt unusually large this morning. Sam and Natasha sat together in one booth, Steve sat across from them. They had agreed to meet there for breakfast after a good night’s sleep and before their shifts started. After Steve and Sam’s meeting with Pierce, and Fury’s confirmation that Clint was out tracking Batroc the night he went missing, they thought it best to start again with fresh minds. But all the freshness in the world couldn’t rid them of this feeling of dread the plagued them all. Something had happened to their friend. And they were sure that Alexander Pierce had something to do with it. 

“Do we call Hansen in for questioning?” Natasha questioned. “Or are we going in a different direction?”

Steve knew exactly the direction Natasha preferred to take this in. She’d insert herself somewhere into A.I.M. and somehow get ahold of Maya Hansen in order to get the information she needed. A part of Steve was very willing to let her go about this her own way. A pretty big part at that. But if they messed up just one part of this investigation they might not only not get Clint back, but those responsible for his disappearance would go free. 

“We’ll go down to see her,” Steve decided. “She might be waiting for us, but it’s still a good bet to catch her with her pants down.”  
“I don’t know,” Sam grinned, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “Not everyone seems to mind being caught with their pants down.”

  
Steve scowled with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You’re hilarious.”

  
“What’re you guys talking about?” Natasha asked.

  
Sam chuckled. “Yesterday at Pierce’s place, this kid strolled through buck ass naked. I mean, head to toe, naked.”

  
Natasha’s eyes went wide. “Kid?”

  
“Nah, not like a kid, kid. Guy was around our age, give or take a year or so. But he just came on in wearing his birthday suit like it didn’t mean a thing.”

  
“What the hell was he doing there?” Natasha wondered. “Was he one of his lackeys?”

  
“Not that we know of,” Steve answered. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  
“And trust me,” Sam added. “Steve was looking real _hard_.”

  
“You’re a real _ass_ , Wilson, you know that?”

Sam and Steve both laughed. Even Natasha cracked a smile. It was hard to see her not in her laid back, nonchalant ways. Normally, she’d be cracking jokes, making dirty comments right along with them. Since Clint had disappeared, she’d been nothing but business. Their good mood was short lived. Within moments, the fact that Clint Barton was still missing crashed down around them again. 

“When do we go down to check in on Hansen?” Natasha wanted to know.

Both she and Sam looked to Steve. Though the three were technically all equals, it was Steve that was the most celebrated of them all. He was just a natural born leader. There was something about him that made him easy to trust. If he was ever to go dirty, the city would be doomed. 

“We’ll check in at the station first, then make our way downtown to A.I.M.’s main office. Fury’s already cleared our workload and delegated to everyone else. We’ve got the green light to do what we have to on this Barton thing.”

They grew quiet again, none of them wanting to admit the thing the feared the most. Natasha was about to bring another forkful of hashbrowns into her mouth and decided not to. Her appetite, like Steve and Sam’s was teetering on too much to non-existent. While they sat there quietly, Steve pulled out a pill case filled with prescriptions and vitamins and took them all. Neither Sam nor Natasha seemed to notice. Not that it mattered. They saw him take his pills hundreds of times. With a sigh, Natasha shoved the plate away. Sam put his arm around her. Natasha stiffened, and at first moved like she was going to brush his gesture aside. A year or so ago, she would have. 

“We still have a little over an hour before we’re on the clock,” Sam murmured. “You wanna get outta here?”

Without answering, Natasha slid out of the booth, tossed some money on the table and headed towards the exit. Sam followed in suit, pausing to add what he owed to the bill.

“Don’t worry,” Steve said. “I got this.”

  
Sam grinned. “I know how much you make.”

He tossed his money down on the table, nodded to Steve and then followed after Natasha. Their on again, off again, relationship wasn’t anything new, or surprising. Nor was it surprising when Clint was part of the relationship as well.

  
Steve took a sip of his coffee and pulled out the files he had on the seat next to him. It was thick and full of papers that should have been enough to arrest Alexander Pierce, but there was just always something missing. Pierce always managed to slip through the cracks on some sort of technicality. No judge would ever sign off on a search warrant to go into any of his facilities either--facilities they all knew damn well housed illegal contraband, ranging from drugs, to weapons, even human trafficking. They had popped him once, about fifteen years ago, before Steve and the others had joined the force, for tax evasion, for which Pierce had seen the inside of a prison for about 3 years and then spent the next two of his sentence under supposed house arrest. After seeing his cozy little abode yesterday, Steve couldn’t imagine how horrible that would have been, even if Pierce did actually have to abide by the house arrest penalty. 

“Detective Rogers?”

At the sound of his name, Steve immediately closed the files he was reading and looked up. Shocked at who he saw, Steve couldn’t help the image of him naked that flashed before his eyes.

“Oh, Bucky, was it?” He said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  
Bucky scratched the back of his neck and grinned. “Yeah, Alex thought it would be good for me to get out of the house today.”

Steve, assuming there was more to what Bucky was going to say, continued to just look up at him. When he didn’t go on, he cocked his head to the side.

“Did you want my permission to be in the diner?” He wondered. “Or was the something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Like he’d surprised Bucky with his comment, he cracked an amused smirk and a fair amount of pink touched his cheeks. 

“Actually, I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” He muttered. “It was rude of me. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  
Steve flicked his eyebrows up at him. “Yours is not the first naked body I’ve ever seen.”

He had a feeling that Bucky, though sincere with his apology, had expected to get some sort of rise out of him. It was the way his jaw dropped just enough for him to notice, like Bucky hadn’t anticipated such a response from him. After a breath or two, the initial surprise of Steve’s reply wore off enough for Bucky to give him a crooked smile. 

“Well, anyway, I am sorry,” He said again. “Will you pass that along to Detective Wilson?”

  
Steve nodded. “Sure thing.”

With one more full smile, Bucky gave him another nod and started to walk away, when Steve’s strategic instincts kicked in. This person was much more personally involved with Pierce than any of his goons. Maybe there was something on him that could get them closer to Pierce.

“Hey, what’s your full name?” Steve called after him.

  
Bucky looked over his shoulder as he slowed. “What?”

  
“Your full name? Bucky…?”

  
“Oh, no,” He chuckled. “My name is James. James Barnes. The Bucky comes from Buchanan, my middle name. My real dad had a real hard-on for the president.” 

That was the first open and unguarded thing he’d said. Steve could tell by the light and casual way he said it all. And yet there was a touch of affection when he spoke about his dad. His lips even curved up in a small smile. 

“Your real dad?”

Bucky’s face fell a little. His eyes darted to the side as though trying to recall whether or not he had actually let that slip or not. 

“Oh, uh, yeah…” He licked his lips. “He died when I was real little.”

  
A familiar longing tugged at Steve’s insides. “Ah. So did mine.”

  
Bucky’s eyes lit up as though this was the first chance he’d ever gotten to speak with a kindred spirit on such a matter.

  
“Oh yeah? Did your mom remarry an ass, too?”

  
Though he felt anything but calm and casual, Steve kept his face as such when he shook his head.

  
“No. She died when I was a teenager though.”

  
“O-oh...I’m sorry.”

  
“S’alright.”

Bucky pulled on the collar of his shirt. It was clear to Steve that Bucky didn’t usually find himself uncomfortable in most situations, especially after the little, or not so little, display he put on yesterday. But he had unwittingly made himself a tad bit more vulnerable, or just vulnerable at all, by revealing something about his personal life he probably hadn’t meant to share at all. The facts that his biological father had died and his mother remarried someone he didn’t like were probably only common knowledge to Alexander Pierce now. By the way Bucky spoke about his biological parents, even in just the brief statements he made, and the way he looked down when Steve told him his own mother had passed away, Steve could tell he had a lot of love hidden away for the both of them. These were emotions Bucky wasn’t keen on presenting to people he didn’t trust, and by people, Steve figured that meant anyone other than Pierce. 

“Well, anyway, I should go,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Alex doesn’t like it when I’m gone too long.”

  
“Wouldn’t want to keep your boss waiting.”

  
“He’s not…” But Bucky stopped himself and flashed Steve an arrogant smirk. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He walked away then and for the first time, Steve noticed the two men and one woman stationed strategically around the diner. He recognized them immediately as Pierce’s lackeys. At first, he wasn’t sure what they were doing there, positioned the way they were. Not until Bucky was seated and the waitress was busy taking his order. Bucky wasn’t here alone like Steve originally thought. Those three people were here escorting him. 

Taking the last swig of his coffee, Steve dropped the rest of the money owed for the bill down on the table, gathered up the file on Pierce and scooted out of the booth. First checking to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything, then checking to make sure everything--badge, gun, wallet, keys, phone--were on him, he headed for the exit. Steve thanked the waiter and hostess on the way out, giving a polite smile to both, and paused at the door. 

In the reflection of the glass, he could see Bucky watching him.


	4. Chapter Four Starts Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming! Leave a comment if you like! Comments make me feel all warm and gooey inside! :)

All of A.I.M.s buildings smelled like disinfectants. It was as though they had to sterilize each and every room at the end of each day no matter how little actually happened in there. The amount of light was almost oppressive and the floors shined so brightly everyone could see their reflections.

  
When Steve, Sam, and Natasha walked in through the revolving glass doors, they bypassed the metal detectors in the front. None of the security guards bothered them after a quick glance to see who was walking by. At the front desk, the young lady attempted to get them to sign in, but a quick flash of their badges had her flustered enough that she wasn’t quite sure what to do and they just continued on their way to the elevators. Natasha reached one first and jerked her head to all the patrons who were about to enter it. One of them started to argue, but Natasha made one face that had him scurrying off. All three of them got on and Sam hit the button that took them up to the 81st floor. It stopped once and only once, at floor 52.

“You can wait for the next one,” Natasha told them, hitting the door close button almost as soon as the doors had opened. 

Upon reaching the 81st floor, the doors opened and they were greeted by the very person they were here to see. Someone down in the lobby must have alerted the higher ups that they were here. 

“I’m sorry, Detectives,” Maya Hansen said, her voice overly-pleasant. “But Mr. Killian isn’t in. Can I try to schedule you in for a better time? Or would you just like me to tell him you stopped by?”

  
“Actually, Ms. Hansen,” Natasha replied as they all stepped off the elevators, making Hansen take a step backwards. “We’re here to see you.”

Hansen’s face paled. Just like Steve had anticipated, this visit for her was the last thing she expected. She pulled at the bottom of her blouse even though it wasn’t riding up on her at all. A tell tale sign of duress.

“I know my rights,” She declared. “I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t want to.”

  
“You’re absolutely right, Maya,” Natasha agreed. “You don’t. However,” she pulled her phone out of her inside pocket and showed her an image on the screen, “if you’d like to avoid being sent to jail for fraud, it might be wise to talk to us now.”

  
Hansen’s eyes went wide. “That...that’s not my signature.”

Natasha turned the phone to look at it briefly and then showed it to Steve and Sam. On the screen were documents that were clearly falsified--documents that had covered up the losses of millions of dollars. At the bottom was Maya Hansen’s signature. 

“Looks like your signature to me,” Sam stated. “Steve?”

  
“Even if it’s not,” Steve picked up. “I can’t imagine that Aldrich Killian will be doing all that much to keep you out of jail if this scandal is leaked.”

  
“After doing 15 to 20 years in prison, I doubt he’ll be anxious to higher you back either.” Natasha’s voice was soft, yet held the unmistakable pinch of taunting to it. 

Hansen’s gaze floated to all of them, her eyes both panicked and tight at the same time. In the end, she let out a long held breath with a nod. 

“Right this way, Detectives.” 

Hansen led the way down the hall and into a large corner office. She shut the door and closed the blinds to the windows that looked out into the hallway. Obviously she trusted them enough to be in the room alone with them without having any witnesses. 

“Now, I’m assuming that what’s said in this room will be confidential?” She asked as she moved around her desk and sat.

  
“If you tell us what we need to know,” Natasha responded, stepping up to stand in between Sam and Steve, “No one else ever has to know we spoke.”

  
“Lie to us,” Sam continued for her, “And every newspaper in the city will be receiving a copy of those papers you “didn’t” sign.” 

Hansen looked to Steve, who hadn’t said anything. Just a lift of his eyebrows was enough to get across what he thought. She nodded. 

“What do you want to know?”

  
Natasha folded her arms over her chest. “Clint Barton.”

  
It was all she needed to say.

  
“Yes, I spoke with him. About two days ago,” She laced her fingers, her thumbs twitching, and braced her knuckles against the edge of the desk. “We were at the Rabid Rabbit.”

  
“We already know that,” Steve said. “You were talking about a shipment. Take it from there.”

  
Hansen closed her eyes with quick shake of her head. “Okay. I suppose you know that Detective Barton was tailing Georges Batroc?” None of them answered beyond a small nod. “Then, I’m sure you’re aware that Batroc and Alexander Pierce have worked together for years. But recently, Batroc has been cutting into Pierce’s territory.”

Steve could have laughed. No wonder Pierce was so quick to give out information on his old business partner.

“Not only that, but Batroc was taking a cut when picking up Pierce’s shipments, a cut he wasn’t entitled to.”

  
“Why was Barton with you that night? Why wasn’t he trailing Batroc?” Sam questioned.

  
“He was trailing Batroc. Clint Barton followed him down to the bar, but laid low,”

  
“Makes sense,” Natasha said to Steve and Sam. “Rabid Rabbit’s a shady place. They’d make Barton in a second if he went in undercover.”

  
“And so he didn’t,” Hansen went on. “Instead, he waited on the roof of the building across the street. I wouldn’t have known he was there at all if I wasn’t meeting...someone else.”

  
“If it doesn’t involve Barton,” Steve said, “we’re not interested in who it was. Go on.”

  
“When he spotted me, he just told me to keep moving. But I figured he wanted to get into the bar.”

  
“And why would you want to do Clint Barton any favors?” Natasha asked.

  
“I figured putting a rift between Batroc and Pierce would be beneficial to Mr. Killian.” She shrugged. “Believe me, I had no idea it would cause all this trouble. Killian might not make his money in the most honorable of ways and his hands are definitely not clean, but he doesn’t have the same blood on them as Pierce.”

  
Steve narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  
“Batroc’s shipment,” She told them. “It was an export, not an import, and it was leaving in less than twenty minutes. Barton didn’t want to miss it, so he raced down to the docks. I doubt he wasted any time calling for back up. My guess is that he got caught there.”

  
“Why would he do that?” Sam wondered. “What would be so important that he would go to the docks alone?”

  
“When he found out what the shipment was…”

  
Steve’s stomach turned. “What was the shipment?”

  
Hansen pursed her lips. “Women, Detective Rogers. The shipment was women.”

***

“You’re on your own until you have solid proof, Rogers,” Fury said on the other end of the phone. “You know I can’t send anyone else in without it.”  
“I know it,” Steve said. “Do you think we have a chance at getting him in cuffs this time?”

  
“Pierce? Not a chance. He’s too smart for this. But Batroc? We might end up putting him behind bars. That’ll be one less asshole running around at there.”

  
“That’s just what Pierce wants though,” He sighed. “Batroc out of the way.”

  
“Let’s just focus on what matters now.”

  
Steve nodded even though Fury couldn’t see. “Barton.”

He didn’t wait for Fury to respond before ending the call. Steve was sitting in the back of the car, while Natasha sped it down the road, flashing the lights whenever anyone got in the way, as they hurried to the docks. Sam sat in the passenger seat, gaze fixed on the street in front of them. None of them knew what they would find there, if anything at all, but Steve knew they were all hoping not to find one thing.

  
Natasha pulled into the first spot she could find. She was out of the car almost before she even put it into park. Steve understood her urgency, but also knew they couldn’t just barge in there without some sort of initial plan, some way of going about doing this. To enter the docks and just mindlessly search around would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. 

“Wait up a sec, Nat,” He touched her lightly on the elbow. “Let’s regroup for just a second.”

At first it looked like she was going to argue, but thought better of it. Sam stood close to her. 

“What’s our move, Rogers?” He asked.

  
“Nat, you take the workers. Ask em’ questions, if they’ve noticed anything suspicious, seen anything, heard anything. They might not be overly forthright, what with Pierce having his hand in everything, but, I’m sure you can persuade them if necessary.”

  
Natasha cracked her knuckles. “Not a problem.”

  
“Sam, take the crates,” Steve went on. “There’s a lot of them, but if they wanted to hide someone, the back is probably where they’d go so start there. I’ll take the piers.” None of them wanted to search the waters, but Steve couldn’t let one of them stumble upon Barton’s body floating in the bay if that’s what it came to. “Let’s go.”

They walked with purpose, determined and on a mission. But when they reached the entrance, they were stopped with a shocking greeting. 

“Well it’s about damn time,” The man at the front gates grunted. “I called yous guys three days ago.”

  
The three of them exchanged looks. Steve stepped forward.

  
“Sir, I’m Detective Rogers, and these are Detectives Wilson and Romanoff,” He introduced, pointing out Sam and Natasha individually. “We’re here…”

  
“Rogers?” The man interrupted. “Steve Rogers? And Sam Wilson? Hey, I’ve reads about you in the papers. You’ve puts a lot scum behind bars. If I had to wait at least they sent some decent cops my way. No doubt the lady here is just as good if she’s with ya’ll. Probably better, but they keeps her name outta them papers to not blow her cover, am I right?”

  
“I’m sorry,” Steve interrupted the man’s gushing. “You said you were waiting for us?”

  
“That’s right. You’re here bout’ the explosion. That’s why you’re here, right?”

  
Sam shook his head. “We’re here about a missing person.”

  
The man scrunched his face. “Don’t know nothing about no missing persons. I called about the explosion the other night.”

  
“What explosion?” Natasha asked.

  
“Come on. I’ll show ya’.” The man waved them on in and took them to what he was talking about.

It wasn’t far. As soon as they were up the ramp, Steve could see what he was talking about. There was still debris scattered about and burn marks and even some things still smoldering. 

“What happened?” Sam wondered.

  
“That’s what I was hoping yous could tell me.” the man shrugged. “Three nights ago, round midnight there were lots of booms, like a bunch of little bombs. Far as I can tell, it started right over there,” 

Steve took the lead and headed over to where the man pointed several feet away. He crouched down to get a better look at the leftover remnants of the explosion. The man was pretty astute. This was the area where there was most damage done, so it did make sense to assume this was the spot it started. 

“You said it was before midnight?” Steve clarified.

  
“That’s right.”

  
“And you’re sure of that?”

  
“Yeah, I’m sure.”

  
“What’re you thinking, Steve?” Sam asked.

  
“Why would someone blow something up like this?” He wondered aloud. “It doesn’t make sense...unless…”

  
“Unless they were creating a diversion.” Natasha finished for him.

  
“Barton,” Sam summed up.

  
“Sir, what makes you sure that it was before midnight?” Steve asked the man.

  
The man shook his head like he was annoyed his memory was being questioned. “Cause if it was any later the shipments would have gone out.”

  
The hope that went through the three of the was palpable. Steve could feel it wrap around them.

  
“Whose shipment?” Steve questioned, pointing to the spot they were in. “Whose shipment was supposed to leave from right here.”

  
The man looked a little uncomfortable now. “Uh, Georges Batroc.”

  
“And you were here that night?” Natasha asked. “When this happened?”

  
“Yeah, that’s right.”

  
“What happened after the explosions? Did Batroc come down? Did any shipment go out at all?”

  
He shook his head. “No, not at all. None have been able to since that night. Mr. Batroc was real angry. Been calling down here everyday, but since I haven’t had anyone down to investigate I haven’t been able to get anyone down here to clear all this stuff out.”

  
“Sir, this is really important,” Steve said urgently. “Which one of these crates was scheduled to go out that night?”

  
The man looked out at all the crates and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, I dunno. I could find out for ya.”

  
“Go do that. And hurry. I can’t stress how important this is.”

  
When the man turned, so did Sam.

  
“I’ll go with him.”

For a few moments the only thing Steve could hear was the sound of the wind and the water crashing up against the docks. A few gulls squawked as they flew overhead. The air was so sticky and wet here that this theory just had to be right. Any evidence otherwise would be so difficult to collect, especially with so many other factors working against them. 

“You think Clint pulled this off?” Natasha interrupted his thinking.

  
He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s possible. I wouldn’t put it past him anyway. Would you?”

  
Natasha pulled her lips into a crooked smile. “Hell no. This has Clint written all over it.” She put her hands on her hips. “But where the hell is he?”

  
“Maybe Batroc got to him?” Steve didn’t want to think that way, but he knew it must have crossed her mind as well.

  
But she shook her head. “How? Sure he’d have been here with his goons, but the place would have been crawling with employees, too.”

  
“True, but money can silence a lot of people.”

  
“But this manager guy was here,” She pointed out. “You saw his face when you said we were here about a missing person. He had no clue what you were talking about.”

She had him on that. Then where did Barton get to? If he really did pull off getting these explosions to go off and kept the shipment of women from leaving, then what happened to him?

  
The sounds of heavy footsteps running towards them had both Steve and Natasha at the ready, but it was Sam, with a clipboard and a pair of bolt cutters. 

“I got it!” Sam shouted as he ran to them. “Dude said it was near the front. Crate number,” He glanced down at the clipboard. “B-A-T-U-3-0-5-4-3-8-3!”

  
The three of them raced into the sea of crates, quickly peering at the numbers that identified them all.

  
“I found it!” Natasha cried within moments. “Over here!”

Steve felt his heart pound as he and Sam met her there, Sam tossing the bolt cutter to her. Wasting no time, Natasha snapped the bolt off and once they were free of the lock, Steve and Sam heaved the doors open.


	5. Lookie Here; It's Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming! Leave a comment if you like! Comments make me feel all warm and gooey inside! :)

Bucky would be headed back to Alex’s later than he had planned, which meant it would be later than Alex usually tolerated. After breakfast at the diner, he’d gone shopping and then took a long stroll on the boardwalk, watching the patrons get on and off the rollercoaster. It had been years since he’d ridden on the coaster. Alex didn’t like the Pier. Too many crowds, and not the crowds he preferred. Still, there was something that always pulled Bucky there.  


Lunch consisted of a big, jumbo-sized pretzel with mustard and an extra-large soda. Just another thing he could only get away with when Alex wasn’t around. It wasn’t that Bucky wasn’t _allowed_ to have things like that, Alex just didn’t want to know about the junk he put into his body. There _were_ other things he wasn’t allowed--things Bucky had worked hard to never go near again. Things Bucky would never have left if it wasn’t for Alex. The afternoon sun was already moving across the sky and there was still just one more stop he wanted to make.

“It’s getting late, Bucky,” John, one of his escorts, pointed out. He was a tall, light-skinned man with a bald head who always looked either annoyed or too serious. “Mr. Pierce wants you home before supper.”  
“I know, I know,” Bucky shushed him. “I just want to stop at the flea market. It’s on the way.”

Bucky loved the flea market, going over the tables and booths of trinkets and baubles, clothes, antique furniture, diamonds in the rough…  
His escorts sighed like they always did or did their own various things that made their dismayed views about going there known. Bucky could understand a little. There was no reason for him to be there. It wasn’t like he needed to be buying things from a flea market. Not when Alex would buy him anything he wanted, no matter how expensive, how extravagant, or how unnecessary it was. But there was something about being here, among the used and roughed up, sometimes broken, items that were there to be given a second chance, even just to be pawned off as someone else’s problem, that made Bucky smile. 

Still, the three escorts guided Bucky away from the boardwalk and back to the two black, armored Escalades they used to get there, John taking the lead several feet ahead of him while the other two walked further back. Although he’d grown accustomed to having escorts with him whenever he was permitted to leave Alex’s, he couldn’t help enjoying those rare times Alex let him go out on his own. After the several failed attempts at the beginning of their relationship, not to mention the few times after things were well-established, Bucky knew why those times were so few and far between. That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate those chances. The chance to be completely on his own, to not have anyone with him at all, to be completely free for a bit, and most of all, to feel trusted to be out on his own.  


Bucky sat in the back of the SUV with the partition up, resting his head back against the seat. Thoughts of this morning’s events at the diner swirled through his mind. When he first saw Steve Rogers sitting there, he assumed he’d been dreaming. What were the odds that they’d end up in the same diner at the same time like that? Something about that detective definitely piqued an interest in Bucky. He wasn’t quite sure why though. There was just something about him that made Bucky want to know him, want to talk to him, want to laugh with him. Something about him made Bucky wish he’d pat him on the back the way he’d patted Sam Wilson on the back. He had an honest face and a welcoming presence. Although easily intimidating, he seemed approachable.  


Bucky pinched the spot between his eyes. This was ridiculous. Thinking about Steve Rogers? What was that all about? Alex gave him everything he could ever want, ask for, and more. He loved Alex. Alex loved him. Alex saved him.  


Overcome with a sudden urge to be with him, Bucky slipped off his shoe and flung it at the partition. 

“John!” He called out instead of using the button to simply roll the divider down. “John!”  
Using the button on his end, John let the partition slide down. “What is it, Bucky?”  
“Change of plans,” He said. “I want to go back to the house.”  
John had sunglasses on, but Bucky could tell he glanced at him through the rearview mirror.  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
The question wasn’t out of concern for Bucky, but for himself. If something happened to Bucky, it would mean his ass. Bucky gave him an exaggerated roll of his eyes.  
“I’m fine,” He huffed impatiently. “Just get me back to Alex’s.”  
He pursed his lips, but nodded his head in one quick motion. “Whatever you say.”  
“That’s right ‘whatever I say’.” Bucky muttered when he put the divider back up. 

Irritation, that came seemingly out of nowhere, ran through his veins. He tapped his shoeless toes on the floor as he anxiously waited to finally get back.  
When John finally pulled the car up to the house, Bucky practically jumped out of it, rather than waiting for someone to open the door for him like he usually did. He raced up the front steps and in through the front doors. 

“Alex!” He called out the second he was in the front parlor. “Alex!”  
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Rumlow grumbled, appearing from the right. “What the hell are you yelling for?”  
“I…” Bucky didn’t really know why he was yelling. “I need Alex.”  
“All right,” He said as though Bucky was aggravating him. “He’s in the library.”

Bucky nodded and rushed to get to the library, one of his favorite places in the entire house. The doors were open when he reached it and he found Alex standing by one of the bookcases, an open book in his hands and headphones over his ears. 

“Alex,” Bucky breathed, no where near loud enough to be heard. 

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he went over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Alex turned slightly and then, catching sight of Bucky, all the way, pulling the headphones off as he did.

“What’s wrong?” He wondered. “What happened?”

Bucky couldn’t answer. Instead, he flung his arms around him and just breathed in his familiar and calming scent. Alex hugged him back for only a moment before unwinding their limbs and pulling back. He placed his hand on Bucky’s cheek.

“What’s the matter, my boy?”  
Shaking his head, Bucky shrugged. “Nothing. I just missed you, that’s all.”  
Alex checked his watch. “Missed me? If you missed me so much, I figured you’d be back at a more reasonable time.”  
Bucky sniffled. “I know. I’m sorry. I...I just wanted to be with you.”  
“Okay,” Alex put the book back on the shelf and took Bucky’s hand. “Then be with me.”

They went up to Bucky’s bedroom. Once there, Alex rested up against the headboard of the bed and had Bucky cuddle up next to him. 

“Where’s your other shoe?” He wondered.  
“I left it in the car.”  
“Are you sure nothing happened, my boy?”  
“I’m sure.”  
“James,” Alex scooched up enough that Bucky had to sit up. “I heard something interesting about your day out. So, if there’s something you want to tell me, it’s best to tell me now.”

At a total loss for what he could be talking about, Bucky just stared at him. He moved to the corner of the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees. After a few moments of wondering what he would be referring to, he just shook his head, his eyes wide and innocent. 

“Really, Alex,” He said, his voice rising to a little bit of a higher pitch. “I don’t know what you mean.”  
“Is that so?” The look of disappointment that crossed Alex’s face hurt Bucky in ways he couldn’t explain. “So did you or did you not see Detective Rogers this morning?”  
“Oh!” A flood of remembrance crashed around him. “Yes, I spoke to him. I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”  
At first, Bucky couldn’t tell how Alex felt about that. He seemed to be searching his face to figure out if he was lying about something.  
“You wanted to apologize?” He questioned. Bucky nodded. “Why?”  
“Well, my behavior reflected poorly on you, didn’t it?” He asked, something he definitely considered this morning before approaching Steve Rogers. “I wanted to make you look better.”  
Alex perked up and stared at him for a few moments without saying anything. When he took in a deep breath and let it out with a slight grin, Bucky folded his lips in.  
“You did it for me, my boy?”  
“Yes.” He whispered.  
Opening his arms, Alex smiled. “Come here, Bucky.” 

Crawling over to him, Bucky let Alex envelop his arms around him, warming him in a tight embrace. Ear pressed against his chest, he listened to the soft thumps of his heart for a while until there was a knock at the door. 

“Yes?” Alex answered the knock despite it being Bucky’s room.  
The female escort from today poked her head in. “Just bringing up Mr. Bucky’s things from today.”

Bucky tried not to roll his eyes. They all only added the mister when Alex was around. The woman brought in the few bags of things that Bucky had gotten down at the pier this afternoon along with the shoe he’d left in the car.

“Feeling nostalgic today, were we?” Alex wondered when she left again.  
Stomach twisting, Bucky shut his eyes. He had hoped to avoid this conversation.  
“No. I just like the ocean.”  
“We live on the coast.” He countered. “There are plenty of places you could have gone to in order to visit the ocean. But instead you went back there. You didn’t go looking for anything there, did you? Cause if you did, I could take you right back there where I found you.”  
Muscles tense with anxiety, even still in Alex’s arms, Bucky did what he could to keep from trembling.  
“No, Alex, nothing happened, I swear. It hasn’t since that last time,” He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He hated thinking about this. “I’m off that stuff for good. I promise.”  
“You better be.” But instead of going on with this, Alex gave the top of Bucky’s head a kiss. “I’m very proud of you, my boy.”  
His insides filled with elation. “You are?”  
“For everything you did today? Apologizing to Detective Rogers for me, behaving yourself down at the Pier? Of course.”  
Bucky snuggled against him some more and couldn’t find any words that seemed good enough for Alex.  
“In fact,” Alex once again undid their embrace and stood up, digging into his pocket. He pulled out his phone to make a call. Bucky could hear the other end ring twice before someone answered. “Renata? Cancel my appointments for the evening,” He turned all the way around to face Bucky. “I’m taking my boy out to supper.”

Nothing Bucky did could wipe the ear-to-ear, pride-filled grin off his face.


	6. What's this? It's Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming! Leave a comment if you like! Comments make me feel all warm and gooey inside! :)

When Alex announced that he’d be taking Bucky out to dinner, Bucky’s body felt like it wasn’t big enough to contain the excitement. He felt like a little kid, all giddy and delighted by some silly, unimportant event that meant the world to him. It wasn’t as though Alex had never taken him out to dinner before. They’d gone out lots of times. It was one of Bucky’s duties--to look good by his side. In that, Alex assured him he’d never failed. Which was one of the reasons he’d wanted to apologize to Steve Rogers this morning. He never wanted to make Alex look bad, or to look bad himself for the sake of Alex’s reputation. 

Tonight was different though. Tonight was a treat. Alex was bringing him out because he was proud of him--proud. He was proud of what he did, proud of how he handled things--Alex was proud to have him by his side. 

Not only was he taking him out, Bucky was downright gleeful when Alex joined him in getting ready. Alex had him run them a bubble bath and had the staff bring up two glasses of champagne along with some strawberries, Bucky’s favorite. As they sat in the oversized tub together, with Bucky’s legs draped over Alex’s lap, Alex fed him some of the strawberries, teasing him a bit by pulling them away right before he’d go to take a bite. After their bath, Bucky rinsed them down, first Alex, then him of course, and Alex picked out a suit for Bucky to wear.

“Black on black looks best on you,” He told him as he laid the suit down on the bed, both he and Bucky in only towels. “Finish getting ready and then meet me downstairs.”

All Bucky needed to do was his hair and get dressed. He gathered some gel in the palm of his hand--an expensive brand that styled his hair, yet kept it soft enough for Alex to run his fingers through it--and then took a few minutes to use the blow-dryer. Once his hair was the way Alex liked it, he practically skipped back into the bedroom to get dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror to make sure he would meet Alex’s approval, took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his excitement, and then headed to meet Alex downstairs. 

He was waiting for him in the front parlor, so Bucky took the main staircase down there. Alex was on his phone when he first started coming down, but he took notice of him when he was in the middle landing. Eyes scanning Bucky, Alex hung up without saying anything to whoever he was speaking to and grinned as he finished coming down the steps.

“Come over here, you,” Alex chuckled and worked the knot in Bucky’s tie up and down a bit before he was satisfied. “You’ll never learn how to get that right, will you?”  
Bucky gave him an impish smirk. “That’s what I have you for.”  
“It is indeed, my boy.” Alex held his arm out. “Ready?”

With a few rapid nods, Bucky gave him a full smile and laced his arm with his. Outside, there was a stretch limo waiting for them. The driver opened the door for them when they got there, and Alex stepped aside and waved Bucky on in first. When he heard him tell the driver where they were going, Bucky’s smile grew even wider. Not only was it the finest restaurant in the city, people didn’t just stop in. People needed reservations months in advance to eat there. Yet they were going without even phoning ahead. Alex slid into limo and the driver shut the door behind him. Without a word, Alex lifted his arms a bit and Bucky knew what he wanted. He shifted his position and laid down with his head on Alex’s lap. 

It didn’t take all that long to get to the restaurant. The whole time, Alex let his fingers wander idly around Bucky’s hair. They didn’t talk, and Bucky was fine with that. The atmosphere was light and casual, perfect to start the evening with. When they got there, the driver pulled over right in front of the place, even though it was a no standing zone. Bucky moved to sit up, but Alex had him stay snuggled up on his lap until the driver had the door opened for them. 

Alex scooted out and then held his hand out for Bucky. Taking it, Bucky smiled and let himself out as well. As soon as he was on the sidewalk with him, Alex twined their arms together and led them to the entrance of the restaurant. Standing up tall and proud at his side, Bucky felt an air of arrogance slip around him. This is where he felt most at ease, this is what he was good at. Eyes fell upon him as they walked in together, eyes ogling the boy at Alexander Pierce’s side. His mouth fixed itself in a crooked grin, and he gave a conceited flicked of his eyebrows to anyone who he happened to catch eyes with. That included the hostess when they reached her. She buried her face a bit.

“My usual table,” Alex told her. 

The hostess’ eyes scanned Alex’s face like she wasn’t sure what to do. She had been so focused on Bucky--her eyes even drifted back to him so he winked at her, to which he got a light pinch in the side from Alex--that she probably didn’t realize who this was. Obviously, she was new.

“Um...Mr. Pierce?”  
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Alex slipped her a bill. Bucky didn’t see what kind. “We’d like to be seated right away.”

Unable to help himself, Bucky gave the hostess a lick of his lips and a sensual shake of his head. Her caramel skin darkened with a blush as she gathered up two menus. First tucking a few pieces of hair that fell out of her ponytail behind her ears, she then cleared her throat and looked out into the dining area.

“Oh...um,” She hesitated. “Would you excuse me just one...second?”  
“Of course,” Alex replied. “Just don’t take too long.”

The hostess sped off, and from what Bucky could see, she was fetching the manager. One quick glance over at the tables and he could see her dilemma. The table Alex usually sat at, which she must have been made aware of during her training, was occupied. 

“Try not to make a spectacle of yourself, my boy,” Alex suddenly muttered to him, his voice light and airy. He gave his arm a light squeeze. “Just be here and look pretty and enjoy yourself.”  
“I thought that’s what I was doing,” He chuckled.  
“Mmm,” he hummed and gave him an amused purse of the lips. “Perhaps you shouldn’t enjoy yourself _too_ much.”  
“Well make up your _mind_ , Alex,” Bucky whined. “Can I enjoy myself or not?”  
Alex shook his head with a snicker. “You are such a handful. Enjoy yourself, Bucky. Just remember what you said earlier.”  
“And what was that?”  
“That you are a reflection of me,” He reminded him as he nodded to the hostess who was waving him over to the now emptied table. “So enjoy yourself, but enjoy yourself in a way that I would approve.”

Bucky nodded, licking his teeth and puckering his lips at the young man trying not to stare at him that they were walking past. When they got to Alex’s table, the hostess pulled out the two satin covered seats for them and placed their menus down on the table. There was a reason this was Alex’s reserved spot. It was in the corner of two ceiling-to-floor window walls that had a magnificent view of the ocean and shore outside. 

The hostess rattled off a few of the night’s specials along with some of the specialty drinks, though Bucky didn’t pay much attention since Alex would order what he wanted regardless of what the specials were.

“Your server will be with you…”  
“Mr. Pierce!” The hostess was interrupted by one of their regular servers. “How lovely to see you and your companion again.”  
“Thank you, son,” Alex said. “We’ll start off with a bottle of Chianti Rufina.”  
“Very good choice, sir,” He replied. “I’ll have that brought out to you right away.”

He darted off to put their wine order in and, as Alex flipped his menu up, Bucky took a moment to look around. A few people were glancing over at them, mostly him, so he nodded at them or wrinkled his nose with a cocky grin. 

“Bucky,” Alex pulled his attention back.  
His eyes were still on the menu.  
“Yeah?”  
Without moving his head, his gaze flicked up at him.  
“I know I’m going to order for you, but it would make people around us a little more comfortable if you at least picked the menu _up_ , don’t you think?”  
“I do,” He sang. “Which is why I haven’t.” 

Alex smacked his lips together and shook his head, but otherwise said nothing about Bucky’s choice to sit there, tall and regal, in all his pretentiousness. Even when the sommelier came and started stumbling over his words during his quick description of the wine Alex had chosen because Bucky kept winking or blowing kisses at him, he wasn’t stopped. In fact, it looked like Alex enjoyed watching it. 

“Hm,” Alex mused to himself when they were alone again. “The smoked swordfish sounds good to start with.”  
Bucky whined. “But that has jalapeno in it,” He complained. “I hate jalapeno.”  
Jutting his bottom lip, he hoped to persuade him into ordering something else for an appetizer. Alex let out an amused sort of sigh.  
“You’re so picky,” He said. “Fine. I’ll order the truffle lobsters, your favorite. Better?”  
The corners of his lips twitched and Bucky shimmied in the seat a bit. “Oh, you’re so good to me, Alex.”  
“That’s right,” Alex laughed. “I am. And don’t you forget…” He trailed off and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, which had started vibrating. “Yes?” He answered. “Is this important? I’m out with…Oh? Oh really? They found it, did they?” Alex’s voice was a mixture of pleased and aggravated. “Very well. I’ll be right down.”

He went on talking for a few more moments, giving out a few instructions, but Bucky didn’t pay any attention. His shoulders had fallen when he heard him say he’d be right down. At the same time he felt the pompous and surety that had adhered itself to him disappear, leaving him feeling very small and insignificant. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked the very instant Alex was off the phone.  
“Have to,” He told him without so much as a glance at him, let alone an apology. “Business to take care of.”  
“But...I thought…”  
“Bucky, I have business to deal with,” Alex practically growled. “It’s more important than a silly night out.”

He had raised his voice enough that a few people at the tables near them happened to turn to see what the fuss was about. Alex crushed his jaw, throwing a fierce glare at Bucky. Bucky shrunk down into his shoulders, sorry he’d caused Alex to be cross with him. Alex rubbed his right temple with his middle and index fingers before pulling out his wallet and dropping a black credit card on the table.

“Look, order whatever you want, have your good time.” He gave him a stern look. “And that doesn’t mean your _old_ good times.” It hurt Bucky that he would assume he would turn to his old habits like that. “I’ll have your escorts wait for you outside. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Alex leaned in to kiss Bucky’s forehead. Just before he left, he lifted Bucky’s chin and gave him a very serious look. 

“Don’t sulk,” He scolded. “It’s very unattractive. Give me a smile. _Now_.”

Though that was the very last thing he could genuinely muster up, and he was sure Alex would be able to tell it wasn’t real, Bucky forced his lips to move up the way he wanted them to. Alex pat his head.

“That’s my boy.” 

Without another word, kiss, or even gesture, he left Bucky there alone. He turned in his chair, no longer obligated to put on a happy face, and watched as Alex glided out of the restaurant, not once even taking a glance behind him. The second he was out the doors, Bucky swirled back around and didn’t know if he felt angry or sad or disappointed or a bit or a lot of all of that. One thing he knew was that all those people he felt superior to just a little while ago were mocking him now, he was sure of it. Why wouldn’t they? He sank down a little in his seat. Bucky snatched the glass of wine that had sat untouched, a few drops spilling out as he did, and took a gulp of it, controlling himself enough not to drink it all. He wiped his eyes, making sure there were no tears there. 

“Oh, did Mr. Pierce go to the restroom?” the server, who had come up without Bucky noticing, asked. “Will he want me to wait or...?”  
“He’s gone,” Bucky muttered.  
“O-oh…” the server creased his eyebrows. “So...are you...ordering for yourself then?”

Bucking glimpsed at him from the corner of his eyes. The server appeared rather confused and just a bit nervous. Leaning forward, elbows on the table and pressing his face in his hands, Bucky let out a quiet moan, knowing the waiter was standing there and wouldn’t leave without an answer. He couldn’t just leave. Alex had told him to order himself food and enjoy himself. But he wasn’t sure how to do that now. He reached into pocket to pull out his wallet, where he always kept just one cigarette. Bucky figured that really didn’t count as smoking. Just one smoke to calm his nerves every couple of months was different than smoking several a day. Only it wasn’t the cigarette that caught his attention. 

“Hey, you don’t happen to still have a payphone here, do you?” He asked the server.  
The server looked quite taken back by the question. “A payphone? You don’t have a cell?”  
“Yeah, I have a cell phone,” Bucky snapped. “But I’m asking if you have a _payphone_.”  
“Um, no,” he stuttered. “No, we don’t, but, uh, if you need to use a phone, you can you the one at the desk.”  
“Kay’ great. Thanks.”

Bucky didn’t wait to be shown the way, but he knew the waiter followed behind to tell the hostess himself that he was going to use the phone. The young lady did the courtesy of opening the line for him and as she did, Bucky pulled out Steve Rogers’ business card.


	7. This is Where Chapter Seven Happens

The station was a circus, absolute pandemonium both inside and out. Outside, cameras flashed, film crews tried to catch a glimpse of something good, reporters shouted questions to anyone who had to walk in through the front doors. Inside, every cop--uniformed, detective, rookie, veteran--any in the area was there celebrating. Anyone not on the clock was drinking champagne, some chugging, others were out in the back sucking on cigars. Even those known to be on Pierce’s payroll were partaking in the celebration. There were cheers and laughing and higher hopes than there had been in a long time. 

Steve was sitting at his desk, the chair pushed out a bit so he was on the fringe of all the hoopla. A half a glass of a champagne was still in his hand and his eyes moved about the room, watching those who both deserved to party and those who didn’t. This happy and hopeful mood was such change from the way he, Sam, and Natasha felt just a few hours ago. 

When they pulled open those doors and found all those women, thirty-four altogether, huddled together, half starved, dehydrated, covered in their own filth, a few of them already gone, Steve never thought this would end with any sort of victory, let alone a celebration. But they had gotten EMS down there within minutes and all the women, some of which were more girls than women, taken care of and brought to hospitals. Before that, while EMS was enroute, Sam put a call into Fury to have one of their own pick up Batroc before anyone could alert him. Fury sent Detectives Sharon Carter and Maria Hill to lead the raid on Batroc’s place, two of his finest and most skilled officers. They’d gotten him, had all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed, and apprehended not only Bartoc, but several of his goons as well. They had the girls safe. But they still didn’t have Clint. 

“Where the hell is he?” Natasha muttered as she scanned the docks. 

It was late in the afternoon at that point, the sun gleaming hard, almost painfully, off the ocean. The place was swarming with volunteers looking for him, but it couldn’t be clear whether or not he was there or if someone had gotten to him. Sharon and Maria had Batroc down at the station and had been questioning him about it, successfully not giving away that they were missing someone, but he’d given them nothing. He was completely insistent that he was being set up. While he freely admitted, even with a lawyer present, that he had a hand in organizing the human trafficking trade in the city, he maintained the this was Alexander Pierce’s doing. No one was interested in that at the moment. All they cared about was finding Clint. 

Steve stood with Sam and Natasha atop the crate they’d found the women in. All three of them looked in opposite directions, hand touching their brow to shield their eyes from the sun. 

“Did the guy say how big the blast was?” Natasha suddenly asked.  
“What?” Sam said.   
“The blast,” She repeated. “The first one.”  
Steve understood where she was going with this. “He didn’t say. But if he set it up so that the first one would be enough to set off the rest…”  
“Then it would have had to be pretty big,” Sam concluded. “If he was anywhere near it…”  
“He’d have been blown back…” Natasha said.  
“Way back…” Steve agreed.  
“Steve,” Natasha came right over to him and immediately began to climb up on him.

Steve helped her up and lifted her so that she got a better view of the area behind them. It took long enough that Steve’s arm started to get just a bit shaky, but then she pointed to the east.

“Over there!”

She hopped down and didn’t tell them where she was headed before slipping off the side of the crate and running where she thought they needed to be. Steve and Sam followed in suit, keeping right on her heels. They ran about fifty feet when she threw herself at a pile of rubble that could have easily been mistaken for a pile of garbage. All three of them started pulling out planks of wood, plastic, huge pieces of metal until they saw a leg.

“Clint…” Natasha whispered.   
“Over here!” Sam called to the others, waving his arms over his head. “Right over here!”

Steve continued yanking things away until getting to one piece that looked like an old door of a storage crate. He heaved it up and off of the body under there to reveal a broken and bloody Clint. The second the sun hit his eyes they scrunched, even though they were already closed. He let out a pain-filled moan and tried to lift his arm up. 

“Don’t move,” Natasha said, dropping to his side and lightly brushing her fingers across his brow. 

Clint flinched and then groaned. He tried to open his eyes. It took a bit, but he managed to pry one open. 

“N--Nat?” His voice was weak and hoarse. “Did I stop it? The ship?”  
Natasha gave him a shaky grin. “Yeah, Clint, you stopped it.”

The emergency team got there then and had Steve and Sam step aside. No one bothered trying to move Natasha away. She even went to the hospital with him and hadn’t returned yet. She had sent an update on him though. He had several broken bones, had severe dehydration, had minor head trauma and second to third degree burns. The city’s top physician, and their personal friend, Dr. Bruce Banner, was personally overseeing all his care and had already assured them that Clint would ultimately be okay. 

“This was a win today, Rogers,” Someone startled Steve from his thoughts. “We caught a big fish. May not have been the shark we wanted, but we still got a big fish.”  
Steve glanced up at Nick Fury and gave him a small grin. “Yeah, it was.”  
“You should be proud.” Fury complimented. “You and your team did good.”  
“I’m nothing without them. They did great out there today.”  
“Then why do I feel like you’re over here sulking?”  
He gave him a laugh. “Not sulking. Just running over things.”  
“Well cut it out. Give yourself a break. For a little while.”  
Since he still had the cup of champagne in his hand, Steve toasted up to him and drank a little more of it.   
“Will do, Captain.”

Steve got up to mingle a bit, making small talk with some of his friends. He couldn’t fully relax though and he wasn’t completely sure why. Today had been a good day. There was no reason to feel this way. 

“What’s going on here?” Sam asked, coming up from behind him. “Looks like you got a lot on your mind.”

Until he approached, Steve hadn’t realized he’d been deliberately avoiding him. If anyone could read him best it would be his partner. 

“Not quite sure,” he said. “Just can’t shake something.”  
“You wanna talk about it?”  
Steve chuckled. “Not really.”

His scanned the crowd of people, his eyes stopping on Sharon Carter talking with Don Blake, another doctor friend of theirs. When she noticed, she gave him a smile and he waved. She’d done a great job today, and without her and Hill’s work, Bartoc might have gotten away.

“What’s it been?” Sam wondered. “A year since you two split up?”  
Steve nodded. “A little over a year. She and Dr. Blake seem to be doing well.”  
“Yeah, a few months, I think.” He was quiet for a second. “So, what about you? You looking for someone?”  
“Nope,” He shook his head with a smile. “Way too committed to my wife.”  
“Wife?”  
“Yeah, I never introduced you to the missus?”

Steve raised his cup to toast to someone across the room and knew that Sam had quickly glanced around to see who he could be talking about. Sam let out a loud, hearty laugh when he saw Nick Fury lift his cup back up to Steve. Keeping his lips tight to keep from laughing too hard along with Sam, Steve gave him pat on the shoulder. 

“Come on, Steve,” Sam was still chuckling, but calming now. “You’re lonely. I can tell. What about the physicist Don introduced you to? Jane something?”  
“Jane Foster?” Steve really liked her. “She’s in London. Something about some weird star activity. Don’t worry about me though. There’s some other things I need to focus on right now.”  
“You need to focus on you, too, Steve.”

Sam was right and Steve wasn’t really sure what was hindering him tonight anyway. He was sure that if they’d found Clint and saved the women yesterday, he’d be feeling different right now. But something had happened today that changed it. 

“You’re right,” Steve admitted. “I’ll get on it.”  
Sam rolled his eyes with a smile. “Well don’t do me any favors.”

He was about to say more, but Sam’s face grew serious. Steve looked to where he’s gaze was and saw Natasha walking towards him. She nodded and Sam stood close enough to her that their arms touched. 

“Hey,” She greeted.  
“How is he, Nat?” Steve asked.  
She took in a deep breath. “He’s doing okay. He was awake for a little bit. He, uh, Bruce said he’s suffered severe hearing loss in his right ear. If he wants to stay on the force he’ll need a damn good hearing aid.”  
“Will our insurance cover it?” Sam wondered.  
Steve chuckled. “Does it matter? We know where he can get a more than efficient hearing aid.”

It only took them a moment or two before they realized who he was talking about. They both smiled, knowing that Clint would be in good hands there as well. When he was well enough, he’d be back with them.   
Steve took Natasha’s hand and put his cup in it.

“Here, you take the rest of this,” He said. “I’m gonna call it a night. Been a long few days.”

Natasha tossed her head back and gulped the rest of what was in the cup in one try. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, crumpled the cup and flung it into the nearest waste pale. 

“Me, too.” She tugged on Sam’s fingers. “Come on. Take me home.”

Sam just nodded and when the two of them parted ways with Steve at the back doors, he had one more piece of advice to give to him.

“Take time for yourself, Steve. You matter. You matter a lot.”

Steve gave him a lazy salute and sauntered to his car, enjoying the sounds of Sam suggesting some places he and Nat could stop for take-out for dinner. When he got into his car, Steve put the key in the ignition and then just sat there for a moment. He had intended on going home, but something else popped into his mind. For some reason, he thought about this morning at the diner. That’s when he realized that’s what was keeping him from relaxing and enjoying himself. There was something else he needed to do. And Steve decided he wasn’t going home right now after all. There was someone he needed to see. 

 

Steve pulled over a few blocks away from the building he was headed for. It was still somewhat early in the evening, but it was possible he’d be interrupting something if he just went up to the penthouse. So he pulled out his personal phone to call first. It rang a few times before he got an answer. 

“Steve?”  
“Hey, Tony.”  
“What’s up, big guy? Heard about your big day. Congrats.”  
“Thanks.” Steve replied. “You busy, Tony?”  
“At the moment?”  
“I could use your help with something.”  
There was a pause. “Where are you?”  
“I can be up in a minute.”  
Steve thought he heard him chuckle. “I guess I don’t have a choice, huh? Come on up. I’ll let Jarvis know you’re coming.”

He hung up before Steve could say anything else. Tony Stark, industrialist and engineer, was the owner and founder of Stark Industries which manufactured some of the most technologically advanced machines and gadgets, not to mention their advancements in clean energy, in the world. He was one of the few businessmen in the city that Steve trusted. He was also a genius, one of the smartest persons Steve ever met. Problem was, Tony knew that, and was not usually afraid to let everyone else know as well. 

“Good evening, Detective Rogers,” Jarvis, Tony’s butler greeted at the door. “I’ll bring you up to Mr. Stark.”  
“Thanks, Jarvis.”  
Jarvis escorted Steve to the elevator and rode up with him. “Congratulations on your arrest today, Detective Rogers.”  
Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

When they reached the penthouse, Jarvis waved his arm out to let Steve go first. Steve nodded his head in thanks and when he stepped out, he found Tony in the large, almost gaudy living room, tinkering on...something. 

“Hey, super cop,” He greeted without turning around to see him. “Which one of my talents do you need to utilize this time?”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled his chest. First though, before he got into what he was really there for, he thought it was best to tell him about what happened with Clint. It was only right.

“Did you hear about Clint?” He asked. “Where we found him? What happened?”

 

He had walked around the couch Tony was on and sat down on one of the two recliners. Tony glanced up for just a second before he resumed what he was doing.

“Yeah, Banner called,” He held up what he was working on. “What’dya think I’m doing. Barton’s gonna have no excuse on this end to not get back to work.”  
Steve let out an awkward chuckle. “Ah, that’s good to hear.”

Something in his voice must have caught Tony’s attention. He stopped what he was doing to glance up at him. A mischievous twitch played on his lips as he leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms across the back of it.

“All right, John McClane,” He jerked his chin at him. “What is it you’re really here for? Cause I know it’s not to shoot the shit. So what’s up?”

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his chin between his thumb and fingers. He knew Tony was watching him expectantly even though he hadn’t looked back at him. When he did glance up through his lashes, Tony cocked his lips. Steve sighed.

“I was wondering if you could dig up some information on someone for me.”

This is what had changed, the realization that gathering information on Bucky just might get him and his team what they needed to take down Pierce. It had been simmering in the back of his mind all this time. He just hadn’t had the chance to pay any attention to it. 

“Oh yeah,” Tony exclaimed. “I love it when you guys come to me for this kinda stuff. This is two times in one week.” That would explain where Natasha got all the information on Maya Hansen. “And for it to be you, Dirty Harry, is even better. Never have you come to me for this kinda favor before.” While Tony gushed over this, he had turned the center of the coffee table to reveal a keyboard. “Seems like the cleanest cop in the city isn’t as clean as everyone thought now, huh?” He grabbed the remote and clicked the television on. Instead of any show being on, it was his computer desktop--or a some sort of desktop. “What is this all about, anyway? Some drug ring? Murder? Ponzi scam?”  
“Pierce,” Steve told him forthright. “It might help take down Pierce.”  
Tony’s typing slowed for one brief moment. “Alexander Pierce?”  
“That’s right.”

He stopped chattering then and concentrated on what he was doing until he was on the screen he needed. 

“Okay, Riggs, who am I looking for?”  
“James Barnes.”  
“With an ‘e’ or without?”  
“Oh...I dunno.”  
“I’ll search with first, it’s more popular,” He said. “What else you got for me?”  
“That’s it.”  
Tony snapped his head up at him. “That’s all you got? Just a name that you’re not sure how to spell? Not a date of birth or an address or even an old address or something?”  
“I gotta nickname, oh, and a middle name, Buchanan. Goes by Bucky.”  
He sucked in a deep breath through pursed lips. “Boy, Rogers, you don’t do this often, but when you need it, you go big, huh?”  
“Are you saying you can’t do it?”  
Tony barked a laugh. “Maybe someone else couldn’t. But you’re talking to Tony Stark. I’ll track the info down for ya. Gimme a few hours. I’ll send it to your phone. It’ll be secure. Don’t worry.”   
With a half a smile, Steve got to his feet.  
“Thanks, Tony. I owe you.”  
“I’m sure I’ll collect.” He replied without looking up from his work. 

Steve shook his head as he headed out, feeling a lot lighter than he had earlier. Perhaps he would actually head back to the station for a little bit to see if Sharon, Don, and Maria were still there. 

“Leaving already, Detective?” Jarvis asked when he saw him in the hall.  
“Yeah. All done here. Thanks, Jarvis.”  
“Would you like me to see you out?”  
“No, that’s all right,” Steve told him as he hit the button for the elevator. “Thanks though.”  
“Have a good evening, sir.”

He nodded to Jarvis just as the doors closed. Not quite sure where he was going to go, back to the station or go home and relax, Steve was on his way to his car when his work phone started vibrating in his inside pocket. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Detective Rogers,” He answered.   
There was a brief pause. “Hello, Detective.”

Steve stopped right in the middle of his step, almost tripping over his feet. He was sure he knew the voice. 

“Who is this?”  
“This is Bucky, Detective, you know, from…”  
“I know who you are, Bucky,” Steve said, quite unnerved that he was calling him. He took just a second to compose himself. “Is there something I can assist you with?”  
“There is actually,” Bucky replied. His tone of voice was vastly different than what it was this morning. “But I can’t talk over the phone. Can you meet me at the Raya?”   
“Raya?” At first Steve ran over the shady bars and clubs associated with Pierce. Then the name rang a bell. “You mean the restaurant?”  
“That’s right.”  
“Is this some sort of emergency?”  
“If I say yes, but I’m lying, will you have me arrested?”

Steve held in a sigh. This Bucky and the Bucky from this morning were two different people. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to set him up. 

“What is this about, James?”

Bucky didn’t respond right away. When he did, his tone was once again different enough for Steve to notice. It was just above a whisper.

“I...I just want someone to talk to.”

That wasn’t a lie. Even if there was something else going on here, that part was the truth. Steve took a minute to think about it. A part of him didn’t want to go. It was a bad idea--a really bad idea. But another part of him remembered that person who accidently let a little bit of himself slip this morning. That part of him wanted to go. He checked his watch.

“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”


	8. Hey That's Great! We're at Chapter Eight!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment if you like! Comments make me all warm and gooey inside :)

The Raya wasn’t exactly the sort of place Steve was used to going to. It was definitely not the place he could afford either, not even if he saved up a year’s salary. His compact car would have stood out amongst the luxury vehicles, SUVs and even limos in the parking lot if he had it valeted. Since he didn’t, Steve jogged across the street to get to the place, crossing in front of an SUV with a man sleeping in the driver’s seat who he recognized as one of Bucky’s escorts. The distinct smell of marijuana lingered around it. He was parked almost in front of the restaurant, just ahead of the no standing zone. Rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head and walked past the car to get to the entrance. 

As soon as he was inside he felt even more out of place. Everyone, even the waitstaff, was better dressed than he was. He probably still had dirt and dried sweat on him from the day’s events, possibly even smelled a little. Steve took a discreet sniff of his shirt. Well, at least his deodorant had held out. He felt the eyes of a few people following him as he made his way up to the hostess. 

“Can I...help you?” She asked.

That was obviously not her normal way of greeting customers, especially without any sort of welcome. Still, her eyes found his and she gave him a little smile. 

“I’m meeting someone,” He told her. Steve wasn’t sure who he should say he was meeting. “I’m Detective Rogers.”  
She immediately lit up. “Oh, you’re here for Mr. Pierce’s companion. Right this way, Detective.”

He followed her through the dining area. The table was strategically set up, Steve could tell that just by his approach. Not only was it the most aesthetically pleasing spot, but it came with the most direct view of the entrance, the two side emergency exits, and the back exit. Only the empty seat would benefit from any of that though. The seat that was occupied didn’t have any of those views. In fact, Bucky didn’t even know they were coming until they were at the table. He perked up when they got there, but just before that, he had been slouched a bit with a glower on his face as he swirled the red wine around in his glass. 

Bucky looked ravishing in that suit--the black on black bringing the bit of a sparkle out in his eyes. When Steve first saw him, his shaggy hair was down and messy, having only been half dry. Now it was neatly styled and pushed away from his face. Steve wasn’t sure if he preferred him this way, or the way he saw him the other day.

“Detective Rogers,” He greeted offhandedly, gesturing to the empty seat. “Won’t you join me?”

Steve sat across from him and saw another glass on the table--an empty glass that had the remnants of wine at the bottom of it. 

“Were you here with someone else?” He asked.  
Bucky made a long, drawn out nod.   
“I was, Detective. But…” He reached for the bottle of wine in the bucket of ice next to the table to refill his glass. “He left.”  
“Are you drunk?”  
He laughed.  
“Drunk? N-n-o-o,” Bucky licked his lips. “Nor am I sober. But I am not drunk. Please, have a glass of wine with me.”

Bucky poured some into the other glass and that emptied the bottle. He clicked his tongue like he was disappointed in that and then put the bottle down on the table. Watching Bucky--who wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than the menu now--closely, Steve took a sip. It was actually pretty amazing. He’d never tasted anything like it. 

“The seafood here is delicious,” Bucky stated, still looking down at his menu. “Lobster melts right in your mouth. And their steak is to die for.” He glanced up at him then and creased his brow. “Aren’t you hungry?”  
Steve closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of all this. “You want me to have _dinner_ with you?”

He looked confused by Steve’s question, as though the two of them having dinner should have been plainly obvious. 

“Well...yeah. Don’t worry about the price. Alex…” He rattled his head. “It’ll be taken care of.”

That was the last straw for Steve. He wasn’t about to be suckered in by this man just because he was attractive and he was intrigued by him. Steve was smarter than that. He couldn’t let Alexander Pierce set him up. 

“That’s it,” He announced and got up. “It was nice to see you again, but I think it’s time for me to be going.”

Bucky’s face fell as though Steve given him the worse news of his life. Jaw hung open, he shook his head and just looked at him.

“No, please don’t go,” He beseeched. “I...I just wanted your company. Really, that’s all.”

Though he sounded so truthful, and looked so sad, Steve just couldn’t comprehend this. None of this made any sense. 

“Why?” He asked him. “What made you call _me_?”  
Bucky went to shrug, but must have thought better of it.  
“I don’t know,” He murmured. “Maybe cause you’re dad died, too. Or maybe cause I can see how much you love Sam Wilson.”  
“And what about your boss?”  
“He’s not my boss.”  
By the way he scrunched his face, Steve was sure he let that slip, probably because of all the wine.   
“Then what is he?”  
“He’s…” He looked around, even though his eyes never left the spot they were focused on at the table as though he was searching for what he wanted to say. “He...well...he takes…” Bucky lowered his voice. “He takes care of me. And I...I make sure he’s...happy. I...love him. And he loves me.”

Bucky had tensed up, stiffening his arms between his legs and lowering his head. He fiddled with his fingers and chewed the inside of his cheek. Although that was one of the last things Steve expected to hear, his face remained calm and clear, so when Bucky peaked up at him he didn’t need to have that look of fear on his face. 

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” He whispered. “Please, don’t say anything, Detective.”

Steve looked out at the diners enjoying their meals, sure that not one of them ever had to make a decision like this. 

“I’ll stay on one condition,” He stated. Bucky eyes lit up. “You call me Steve.”  
He gave him a wide, full smile as Steve sat back down. “You...You can call me Bucky.”  
Steve nodded, and reached across the table to offer him his hand.   
“Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

At first, Bucky stared at his hand like he was in awe of it, as though Steve was the first person to offer him something as acknowledging as a handshake in years. When he took it, his whole body seemed to glow. 

When Bucky told him not to worry about the cost, he meant just that. Within ninety minutes their table was filled with platters of seafoods, beefs, chickens, vegetables, pastas, and even cakes, puddings, and melting icecream. Bucky had ordered another bottle of the same wine that had already been ordered, of which Steve only had two glasses. They sucked on oysters and cracked into crab claws. Steve enjoyed the strips of N.Y. steak while Bucky insisted he’d get over his aversion to mushrooms if he just tired their mushroom huarache. Since the portions were pretty small--keeping up with the fancy restaurant stereotype Steve had been introduced to via movies--they were able to pick at nearly everything. 

They sat there talking the whole time. Not about anything personal. Despite the wine that he kept drinking, after spilling that little information about his relationship with Pierce, Bucky was more tight-mouthed about the more intimate details of his life. So they kept things light and somewhat superficial. Things like their favorites--favorite songs, movies, pastimes, even colors. Steve learned that he loved to read. Bucky would read anything. Fiction, non-fiction, classics, fantasy, romance, science fiction, he loved to read. It was something they had in common, though Steve could tell it meant more to Bucky than it did to him when he asked him what his favorite book was. Bucky’s jaw dropped. 

“Oooh,” He took a sip of wine like he needed its help. “No one’s ever asked me that before. Um…” He scratched his head. “I mean, how do you pick something like that? When you go to a party at Gatsby’s mansion one day, or, or be afraid of Boo Radley and cry over Juliet, and then have to run from Morlocks.” He pressed his lips together like he was done but then picked right back up again. “Or hate Joffery with a such _burning_ passion you feel like you could ring his scrawny neck with your own two hands and then go on a hunt for Voldemort with Harry or wait with Clare for Henry to come back!”

Bucky had gone on for a good twenty minutes describing several books after Steve asked him which was his favorite since he couldn’t decide. For Bucky, books took him to places he couldn’t even dream of. He lived through them, living a life he didn’t think possible for anyone, especially himself. He never did settle on a favorite. He’d been talking so animately that after every few seconds he’d run out of breath. Every time it happened, he would simply take in another deep one and start again. By the time he actually did finish, and he happened to come to an abrupt halt, he stared out at Steve like he was startled. His entire face turned red. It was like he suddenly realized he was rambling on and on about these books and, not only was he embarrassed, he wasn’t supposed to lose himself in conversation like that. 

“Oh, God,” He whispered, pressing his knuckles into his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m talking too much. You don’t wanna hear all that. I…”  
“Bucky,” Steve interrupted with a chuckle. “It’s okay. I asked you.”  
He buried his face in his hands like he felt ridiculous. “But you didn’t want to hear all of that. I’m sorry.”  
“Stop apologizing. I did want to hear it all. I liked hearing it all.” When Steve said that, Bucky peered at him over the tips of his fingers. “It tells me a lot about you.”  
He lowered his hands just enough to reveal his mouth. “It does?”  
Steve nodded with a smile. “Sure.”  
“Like what?”  
“That you’re passionate, for one,” He said. “You’re imaginative, you pay attention to detail, and when you get excited you talk so much that you forget to breathe.”

Bucky’s face filled with another blush, but this time he broke out in laughter. He laughed with his whole body, his entire face filled with delight, that Steve was sure this was the first real laugh he let out. It was a beautiful sound, like absolute bliss and happiness, but it only lasted a few seconds before he clammed up and appeared shocked that he’d made the sound out all. He cleared his throat, drank some more wine, and gave Steve a crooked smile.

“So, what do you like to do?” He asked.

Steve took a small bite of the chocolate cake that had been in front of him for too long without being touched. 

“I like to draw,” He admitted. “I even thought about going to art school, but opted for joining the force inste...what?”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he realized that Bucky was staring at him with bug eyes. 

“You draw!” He exclaimed. “How?”  
Steve lifted an eyebrow. “I put the pencil down to paper and make lines and shapes and things.”  
Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes.  
“Shut up, jerk,” He muttered. “I mean, what--what do you draw? Still life? Abstract? What?”  
“Oh, uh, still lifes, portraits, and just sketches, I guess.”  
He got really excited again, and, just like Steve said, started to get breathless.   
“Can you draw something now? Anything you want! Could you? I love shit like that, it’s amazing!”  
Steve snickered. “I don’t have anything to draw with.”  
Bucky rolled his eyes with waved him off. “Oh please, I can get you that.” He put his arm up in the air and snapped his fingers. “Hey, you!” He called to the nearest server, an immediate sense of arrogance fixing itself him. “Over here!”

Steve placed his hand gently upon the the hand that Bucky still had on the table. The touch had Bucky swirling back around to face him again. The ego had vanished immediately.

“Bucky,” He said. “Don’t be rude.”  
“Oh, I,” He looked from Steve to their hands and back to Steve again when he took his hand away. He bit his lip like he wasn’t sure what to do. “I’m sorry.” He glanced up at the waitress who had just arrived. “My apologies, ma’am.” He said to her. “Um, do you think you could bring over a piece of paper and a pencil...please?”

She nodded and then went off to get what he’d asked for. The second she was gone, Bucky seemed to turn in on himself. The young man who was opening up to Steve turned off. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.   
Bucky appeared...almost frightened.   
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He whispered.  
“You didn’t…” He paused and reached out so he could gently take hold of Bucky’s hand. “Bucky, you didn’t make me mad. Why would you think that?”

He swallowed hard and let out a heavy breath, his eyes on their hands. Afraid he might have made him uncomfortable, Steve let go. 

“It’s just...Alex says staff is here to serve us.”

Steve suddenly understood where this was coming from. Though he didn’t think he was stern, but a little more than serious when he asked him not to be rude, Steve hadn’t expected Bucky to react at all, let alone this way. He made a mental note to watch his tone around him. 

“Well, sure, Bucky, I mean, they’re here to make sure you have what you need to enjoy your night,” Steve said lightly. “But they’re not your servants. They’re not here for you to take advantage of them. They’re making a living, working hard, and probably not for all that much money.”

Glass in hand, Bucky nodded, finished what was left of his wine and poured some more, finishing off the second bottle. The way he had nodded made Steve wonder if he wasn’t sure how to think about this. Still, when the waitress brought the pencil and paper over, he looked up at her and got her attention much more politely.

“Scuse’ me, could you bring me another glass of this?” He asked, lifting the empty wine bottle.   
She smiled at him. “Sure.”  
“Uh, I think we should get the check, too,” Steve said.  
“Not a problem,” She replied and head off to get the drink and their check.  
Bucky pouted across from him, jutting his bottom lip out and making his blue eyes big and puppy like.   
“You wanna leave me already?”  
Steve rolled his eyes with a playful smirk.   
“You sure you want another one?” Steve wondered, nonchalantly picking up the pencil and casually starting to sketch something out.   
“Sure,” He replied after drinking some. “Why don’t you have more?”  
Steve chuckled. “I’m driving.”  
“Ah ha!” Bucky let out a little laugh. “One good thing about having escorts all the time. I always have a designated driver.”

The waitress had just come back over with his last drink and the check. Bucky handed her a black credit card and told her to put Alex’s normal tip on it. She thanked him and walked away again. Still drawing, even though he was pretty sure Bucky didn’t even notice it, Steve shrugged and tilted his head.

“That’s gotta get tiring though, doesn’t it?” He asked. “Having to always have someone with you all the time?”  
Bucky drank a bit more, but shook his head. “Oh yeah, I mean, sometimes, but I’m not okay on my own.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“I make bad choices.” He twisted his lips. “I mean, that’s why it’s just better for me to be with Alex and to stay with my escorts. Whenever I wasn’t...things happened.”

Steve paused with his drawing to glance up at him. Both the way Bucky spoke about this--even though his words were starting to blend and slur--and the way he simply picked a bit more at the food on the table made it seem like he had accepted this was just the way things were. 

“What things, Bucky?”   
Mouth full, he shrugged again like none of this was a big deal. “I just can’t be trusted on my own. Every time I am, I have trouble resisting my old habits.”  
“Old habits?”  
He nodded. “Yeah, I used to hang out with some bad people. Alex saved me from them.” His eyes, very glassy and squinty, actually shined a little when bringing this up. “So, it’s just better with him.”  
“Well, okay,” Not that Steve actually believed that, but he knew he couldn’t just say that outright at the moment. “But, don’t you want to try living on your own? How will you ever know if you can be independent if you don’t at least try?”  
“Oh no, I did try,” He said, waving his hands out wildly enough that he almost knocked over his glass. Instead of it falling over, he caught it and drank some more. “Alex even set me up in this great apartment,” He hiccuped. “Oo, excuse me. Uh, he got me this really great apartment, but…” Bucky shook his head with a resolved sigh. “I just, I kept messing up. I would leave the window open when it rained which ruined the carpets. I left the door unlocked and the television was stolen. Alex was so angry, but he still bought me another one. And then I accidently left the toaster oven on and there was a fire in the kitchen. I mean, no one was hurt, but after that it was just...I just...it was obvious…” Bucky leaned forward and rubbed the back of his neck. “I still swear that I turned it off…no, but I didn’t...I can’t be trusted on my own. That’s why I…” He hiccuped again. “I need Alex.”

Millions of thoughts were racing through Steve’s mind, none of which he could share with Bucky at the moment. He was pretty sure that Bucky wouldn’t have told him any of that if he hadn’t drank those last two or three glasses of wine. Something about it all seemed off. Or maybe Steve was trying to see deceit where there wasn’t any. He wasn’t sure. 

“But what about you?” Bucky asked him, a sloppy grin on his mouth. “Anyone special in your life?”

There were a lot of things that Bucky had said which Steve planned on analyzing, but for the moment, he was prepared to, and really wanted to, go on with their evening. He let the pencil continue moving along the paper. 

“No,” He answered. “Hasn’t been anyone in a while. Other than my team.”  
“You mean Sam Wilson, right? Your partner?”  
“Not just Sam,” Steve clarified. “My team. All of them.”  
“Your team?” Bucky battered his eyes. “You love them all?”  
“They mean everything to me.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when the manager came over with the leaflet containing his, or Alex’s receipt and credit card. 

“Many thanks to Mr. Pierce for his patronage,” He said in a very brown-nosing sort of way. “As always, we hope to see him back here very soon.”  
“Yeah,” Bucky grumbled like he was irritated as he scribbled a signature on the bill. “I’ll let him know.”  
The manager took back the restaurant’s slip. “Take your time, gentlemen.”

Steve had taken to concentrating a bit on his sketch while Bucky was busy with the manager, so when he looked up again after he walked away, he laughed to see find Bucky smacking his lips together. 

“How you doing over there, champ?” 

Bucky’s eyes were getting very droopy, like the wine had been gradually getting to him and then suddenly hit. Slouched in the seat now, he started to mumble something that Steve didn’t understand. 

“What was that?”

As though startled awake, Bucky sat up, took in a deep breath and looked around, wide-eyed and dazed. When his gaze landed on Steve he seemed very worried.

“Steve, how...how much have I had to drink?”  
“A lot, Bucky.”  
“Oh no…”  
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Steve comforted. “Like you said, you have a ride home.”  
“No….” Bucky shook his head back and forth. “Oh, no, no, no.”

Bucky stood up and swayed back and forth, a panicked looked invading every part of his face. Tears hugged the corners of his eyes. 

“Bucky, what’s the matter?”  
“I’m too drunk,” he whispered. “This isn’t good. This is bad. This is so, so bad.”  
“What are you talking about? You’ll just sleep it off.”  
“No!” Bucky cried. “You don’t understand! I’m…” He rocked from side to side, and Steve had to reach out and take hold of his shoulder to keep him from falling over. “I’m going to be in so much trouble. Alex...Alex is going to be so mad...I’m too drunk. He’s going to be so disappointed...I got more drunk than he likes and he’s mad at me and he’s going to make me leave and…”  
“Okay, okay,” Steve interrupted his panicking and jumped up to place both hands on his shoulders. “Just slow down a second, Bucky, okay?”  
“I...Steve, I, I know I’m a shit, but,” He sucked in a jagged breath, “please help me…” he pleaded. “I can’t go back to the streets...I don’t want Alex to be mad at me. I love him. I need him.”

Tears spilled over his eyes and even though he was still shaky on his feet he was trembling all over. 

“All right,” Steve swung his arm over Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on.”  
“Where...where are we going?”  
“The restroom. I’m gonna help you clean up a bit.”

With Bucky near hysterics, Steve guided him to the men’s room, ignoring the looks he got when Bucky leaned into him for full support. Steve could feel how rough his breathing was from trying not to cry when he pressed his body into his like that. In the bathroom, Steve got him to the sinks and helped him wash his face off with cold water. Bucky’s face was completely pinched as he desperately tried to keep it together except when he opened his eyes wide and let out deep breaths through pursed lips. 

“You see…” Bucky wept. “This...this is why I can’t...I can’t be on...on my own. I’m...I can’t be...I’m such an idiot…”  
Steve wet some paper towels and placed them on the back of his neck.   
“Wait here a second.” He instructed.  
He looked at him like he was scared he’d never come back. “No, wait, Steve, where are you going?”  
“I’ll be right back.”  
Steve went back out into the restaurant and up to the bar.   
“Can I have a cup of coffee, please?”  
The bartender glanced up at him and all but ignored him. He shook his head at Steve and moved over.   
“Sorry, pal, coffee’s only for seated customers.”  
Steve rolled his eyes, pulled his badge off his belt and put it down on the bar. “Son, just give me the coffee.”

The guy looked down at the badge and quickly got Steve what he wanted. Steve didn’t bother paying for it and hurried back to the bathroom. There, he found Bucky sitting against the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom lip quivering, and a few tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Steve crouched down beside him and placed his hand on his shoulder. It must have startled him.

“Steve,” he murmured. “You came back,”  
Steve couldn’t imagine why he would have assumed he’d just abandon him here.  
“I told you I would.” He handed him the coffee. “Drink this.”  
He blew on it and took a sip. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m…”  
“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve assured him. “I’ll get you out of here.”  
“I just...we were supposed to spend the night together.”  
“We were?”  
“Me and Alex.” Bucky wiped his eyes, his breathing a bit more relaxed. “I just...I just wanted to spend the night with him. I thought we were going to have a good night together.”  
“So I was what? Your rebound?” Steve joked.  
That made Bucky laugh. “No. I...I don’t know what this was. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”  
Steve wiped his brow with another wet towel. “Don’t worry about it, Bucky.”  
Running his hands over his face, Bucky sighed. “Why do I always get myself into this shit? How am I going to get out of this?”  
“I have an idea,” Steve said.  
He glanced over at him, leaning his head on his own shoulder. “Which is?”

With a quick sigh, Steve rose to his feet and felt a twinge of regret when he saw how vulnerable Bucky looked when he glanced up at him. But he shook it off, reached down and heaved Bucky to his feet. He wobbled and would have toppled over if Steve wasn’t grabbing onto him and pulling his arms behind his back.

“What...what are you doing?”  
“Shut up, punk.” He growled as he shoved him up against the wall just as he would any perp on the streets and slapped his handcuffs on his wrists. “James Barnes, you’re under arrest for disorderly conduct, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…”  
“I don’t understand,” Bucky’s voice trembled and he started crying again. “Steve, I thought you were my friend…”

Steve pulled him away from the wall and dragged him out into the dining area again, for everyone to see him arresting him.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be provide for you. Do you understand these right as they have been read to you?”  
“No, I don’t,” he sobbed. “I don’t understand any of this. Why are you doing this, Steve? What did I do?”

Steve didn’t answer. He just kept on hauling him out the door, making him nearly trip over his own feet as they went down the stairs. It was when they reached the SUV with Bucky’s escort that Steve loosened his grip against him enough that because of Bucky’s struggling he slipped away and slammed right into the car. The hit shook the vehicle and alerted the escort inside, so he got a good look of Steve yanking Bucky back to his feet.

“Get up,” Steve yelled at Bucky. “Now,”  
“What’s going on here?” The escort demanded as he rushed over. “What are you doing to him?”  
“This man’s being arrested for disorderly conduct. Apparently he had one too many drinks tonight.”  
“John,” Bucky said, “John, I don’t…”

Steve shook him just hard enough that John wouldn’t notice, but Bucky couldn’t continue.

“No, no,” John said. “The employees here would have come out and gotten me.”  
“Well apparently they tried,” Steve said. “But they said you were sleeping and couldn’t wake you. So they called me.”  
The look on John’s face fell somewhere between disbelief and fear. “N-no. No, I wasn’t...oh, man, Bucky, what the hell? Look, Detective, can’t you just let me take him?”  
“Not a chance. Let Pierce pick him up in the drunk tank tomorrow morning,”  
Steve felt a twist in his gut when he heard Bucky whimper.  
“Ah, damn,” John muttered a few obscenities. “Look, the kid’s had a rough few days. Can’t you just em’ off with a warning of something?”  
He scoffed. “You don’t give a shit about this guy. All you care about is saving your own ass.”  
“That’s right,” John agreed. “If you arrest him, my ass is on the line.”  
Steve sighed, and hoped that maybe Bucky wouldn’t remember that little bit in the morning. “I tell ya’ what. You think you can get him home without Pierce knowing? Be my guest. But, I’m coming tomorrow morning to check on him. Don’t need to find out you roughed him up.”  
Steve took off the handcuffs and handed Bucky off to John.   
“You got it, Detective.” He agreed. “Thanks a million. Let’s go, Bucky.”

There was nothing genuine about his thank you, but Steve would take what he could get. He only caught a glimpse of Bucky’s face as John loaded him into the car and he plopped into the backseat. He looked confused, a bit relieved, scared, and just exhausted. Not wanting to blow his cover by lingering near the back windows, Steve backed away and waited until John pulled away, taking Bucky with him.

Just as the car was out of sight, his cell phone buzzed in his pant’s pocket. After the night he had, it started him enough that he jumped a little. Steve pulled it out. It was a message from Tony. Right there on the streets, he opened the first page of it. The first line he read made his heart pound.


	9. Aint it Fine? Chapter Nine

The light coming in through the windows hit Bucky’s eyes painfully in the morning--first thing in the morning at that. Since John had carried out his word to Steve and indeed made sure that no one other than he knew Bucky was drunk when he got him home, he’d taken him up to his bedroom. But take him up to his bedroom was all he did. Once he got him there, John gave him a push through the door and closed it behind him, like Bucky was a burden he just wanted to get rid of. 

Teetering back and forth, Bucky stood there for a few moments, head spinning and stomach turning. He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, to have his body sucked into the billowy softness of the mattress. But if Alex happened to come in and find him sleeping in his clothes, he’d know something was wrong. So, Bucky stumbled into the bathroom, did what he could not to fall as he peeled his clothes off and brushed his teeth. He didn’t bother putting any pajamas on. Sometimes Alex liked it when he found him like that anyway. Grateful for the glass he kept in the bathroom, even though he longed to go to the kitchen to get a nice, ice cold glass of water, he filled that one from the sink he was at and slurped it down in seconds, some of it dribbling out the corners of his mouth. He then got himself back to the bed and fell into it, either falling asleep or passing out. 

He woke up twice in the middle of the night to be sick. The first time, he managed to take some aspirin for the headache that was already coming on. But when the sun came shining in through the windows, he groaned, and was just sober enough to throw a little tantrum. He huffed and hit his fists on the bed, angry that the blackout curtains hadn’t been pulled closed. 

“Shouldn’t have to do these things myself,” He muttered as he climbed out of bed to yank them across the windows himself. “Why bother paying them anything if they don’t work?”

Anger surged through him. Bucky wasn’t sure what or who he was angry at. He just felt angry. He could remember most of last night, though a bit of the end was hazy. Did John say something about not caring about him or had he dreamed that? Bucky wasn’t sure. He did remember, with pungent clarity, how confused and terrified he’d been when he thought Steve was arresting him, and then how relieved he was when he didn’t. 

Bucky, laying down in bed again, pressed his fists into his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Calling Steve Rogers? Having dinner with him? Telling him things that he had no business telling him?

“Oh God, Bucky,” He scolded himself. “You’re such an idiot.” 

He didn’t tell him too much at least, although who knows how much he let slip when he started freaking out. Bucky knew he told him about his failed attempt at living alone. He wondered what Steve would think about all the jobs he tried to keep. 

_“I’m nineteen, Alex,” Bucky stated his case. “I’ve never had my own job. Please, can’t I try to get one?”  
“Why would you want a job, my boy?” Alex asked, not looking up from his newspaper. “I provide everything you need.”_

_They were out on the balcony that overlooked the pool. It was a fall afternoon, the day warm and breezy. Bucky was leaning against the railing, watching Alex rest on the lounge chair._

_“I know that. I just...I want to see if I can do it. I wanna see if I can get one and keep it. This way I know I can do it.”_

_It was quiet for a few minutes as Bucky continued to watch Alex and Alex continued to read his paper. Finally, Alex lifted his eyes and sighed._

_“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”  
Bucky gave him a crooked smile. “No.”  
“You and your pride.” He shook his head. “Okay, Bucky. Go out and find yourself a job, even though everyone else your age is complaining about them.”  
“Yes!” Bucky pulled his elbow down and knee up. “Thanks, Alex! I won’t let you down!”_

_He raced off to find one of his escorts, any of them would do, to go with them into the town. The first one he found was Terry, a young, brown skinned man with broad shoulders and a shaved head, who always smiled and laughing._

_“Hey, Terry!” Bucky greeted. “Wanna come into town with me? Alex said I could go look for a job.”  
“That right, kid?” Terry replied. “Sure. Let’s go.”_

_After pestering Terry for several minutes, Bucky was allowed to drive, but only until they got to the busier streets. Bucky spent almost two hours filling out applications at banks, supermarkets, clothing stores, fast food restaurants, convenience stores, gas stations, and anywhere else that might hire him. By the time his curfew was coming around, and Terry was taking him home, he was so excited he was practically bouncing out of his skin._

_“I’m gonna work so hard, Terry,” He chewed his escort’s ear off in the car, sitting in the passenger seat. “I used to do pretty good in school so I know I can do good at a job. I’ll make my own money.” He was talking a mile a minute, forgetting to take a breath like he sometimes did when he got excited. “I know Alex gives me everything I need, but it’ll be nice to feel something that **I** did for me, you know? I don’t know what that means exactly, but I just…”  
“That’s pride, kid.” Terry interrupted.  
“What?”  
“You want to feel pride in something you’ve accomplished. That’s what you’re looking for.”   
“But, I want Alex to be proud of me.”  
“Sure ya’ do.” He agreed. “But you want to be proud of yourself, too.”  
Bucky thought about that for a moment.   
“Yeah!” He decided. “Yeah, you’re right!”_

_Terry laughed and Bucky went right back into gushing about how well he was going to do once he got a job._

_As soon as they got back, well, right after Bucky checked in with Alex like he was supposed to, he went right to his room to check his answering machine to see if anyone had called about an interview. He tried not to be too disappointed when this little light wasn’t flashing._

_“You didn’t think they’d call already, did you?” Alex asked over dinner.  
Bucky shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I hoped they would.”  
“Give it time, my boy.”_

_So Bucky did give it some time and by the end of the week, he was beaming with delight when he had an interview at a small grocery store._

_“It’s for a store clerk,” Bucky told Alex. “The manager says there would some cashier work and stocking shelves and stuff. I can do that, right?”  
“Sure you can!” Alex assured him. “You might have dropped out of high school, but you can do that. When is the interview?”  
“It’s this afternoon at three o’clock.”  
Alex kissed the top of his head. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”_

_The interview had gone so well that the manager hired him there on the spot. Bucky was so excited that he almost leaped up in the air. He promised his new boss that he’d be a great employee and that he wasn’t making a mistake. When he got home and told Alex of the news, Alex told him this was a night to celebrate._

_And Bucky made good on all his promises. He made Alex proud and he was a great employee. He showed up on time, came in whenever they needed an extra hand, never caused any sort of problems, was courteous to customers--so courteous, in fact, he was complimented on a daily basis--was always even on his register count, and was adored by the other employees. Terry was right when he said he was looking for pride. There was a great sense of pride in earning his own paycheck at the end of every week, even if it was very little. Bucky completely understood why the others complained about their meager restitution. While they were working to live, he was working just to work, just to prove that he could. There was a difference. But he was happy to do so, happy to prove that he could. So when the manager asked to speak to him after he’d been working there for a little over six weeks, Bucky never expected the meeting to go the way it did._

_“I’m sorry, Bucky,” He said. “But we have to let you go.”  
Nothing could have prepared him for the immeasurable amount of confusion and dismay that ran through him.   
“What?” He asked. “But why?”  
“You’re just not working out here.”_

_There was no other explanation than that. He was told that was it and to leave. Alex told him not to be too upset, that these things happen and to just try again. Bucky did. He found another job at a corner store and put the grocery store incident behind him. Settling into his new job, Bucky found himself enjoying that one as much as he did his first. But once again, after almost two months there, his manager took him aside and told him he wasn’t working out. Bucky had done nothing wrong, nothing he could remember anyway, and yet, he’d lost another job._

_That pattern continued throughout the year. He’d find a job, work hard to keep it for several weeks, and then lose it, always getting the same reason--he just wasn’t working out. After a year, Bucky, feeling defeated, finally gave up._

_“I’m done, Alex,” He said when he came home from the gas station, his last job ever. “I was wrong. I can’t do it.”_

_Alex sighed and held his arms out for him. He hugged him stiffly for a moment before cupping Bucky’s chin in his hand._

_“I’m sorry, my boy.” He said. “I guess some people are just good at having pretty faces.”_

Bucky grumbled, rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head even though it was now dark enough in the room that the bit of light didn’t bother him anymore. These memories were useless. There was no reason to think about his failures, about what he wasn’t and couldn’t do and the person he would never be. This was all that stupid Steve’s fault. If he hadn’t asked all those questions about his past last night then all these thoughts wouldn’t be coming up now. Bucky hated Steve Rogers. All he wanted from him was a good time and instead he had to go and cause all this. 

He can’t believe he even thought of Steve as a friend. What was wrong with him? Bucky didn’t have friends other than Alex. Alex was all he ever needed. Besides, he barely even _knew_ Steve...no, Detective Rogers. No, he _didn’t_ know Steve...Detective Rogers. To think of him as a friend, to think he might actually have…

No, absolutely not. Bucky huffed under the covers and tossed around a bit. He didn’t, absolutely did _not_ have feelings for Steve...for Detective Rogers. Sure, the man was attractive. Those baby blue eyes and locks of brownish, sandy colored hair and that tight body full of bulging muscles that he could see though his clothes was enough to make anyone swoon. 

“Shit,” Bucky mumbled and put his hand between his legs. “Stop it, stop, stop, stop.”

Biting down on his lip, he closed his fingers around himself anyway and stroked slowly, taking in deep breaths as he did. He tried to think about about Alex and the things they did together, all that he meant to him, but instead, Steve kept popping into his head. Steve and his eyes. Steve and his body. Steve and his voice. Steve and his mouth. Steve and his touch.

Under the covers like he needed to hide even within the darkness of his room, sweat glistened on his skin. Breaths picking up on him, Bucky moved his hand quicker and quicker until he needed to reach out from under the blankets to grab some tissues so as not to make a mess. His entire body tensed and he let out a quiet grunt. Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that the image running through his mind was Steve making him laugh. Leaning his head back on his pillow, emerging out from under the blankets since it was too hot under them, he caught his breath and shook his head. What a ridiculous thing to think of at such a moment. He wiped some sweat away from his head with the back of his hand and tossed his tissues to the garbage, a few missing and falling to the floor. 

Maybe that was just what he needed. Just that one little...activity and now Bucky would put Steve...Detective Rogers behind him. 

Closing his eyes, he made the decision to never call him again. Bucky would rip up the business card he had and never need to see him again unless he was here to see Alex. The thought of Alex made a few tears pool in his eyes. After all that he had done for him, Bucky had done something that would hurt him. He was nothing without Alex. Time had proved that over and over again. No one wanted him. Not even his own mother, who hadn’t answered a single letter when he sent them for an entire year. Even if Steve had helped him out last night, it was only a matter of time before he left him anyway. Just like with the jobs, just like with his apartment, just like his mom, Steve wouldn’t work out. Steve would let him down and it would be just another reminder that he was a failure, that he was unlovable, he was nothing--nothing to everyone except to Alex. 

 

The knock on the door woke him. Bucky rolled over with moan and looked at the clock on his nightstand. Over an hour had gone by since he’d last took note of the time. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. There was another knock, this one harder and actually sounding impatient. Bucky knew it wasn’t Alex. Even if he were to knock, he would just come in right after knocking anyway. Bucky flung the covers off with a huff and got up to see who it was and what they wanted. Whoever it was would have to deal with his nakedness. He was in a bad mood, was still trying to work off a bit of a hangover, and his thoughts weren’t listening to him. 

“What?” He snapped, swinging the door all the way open. 

Seemed the universe was working against him today, too. Not only was he in a bad mood, still working off a bit of a hangover, and were his thoughts not listening to him, but now John was standing out there with Steve. Stunned for a moment, Bucky just stood there and glared out at them. His initial thought was to go back into his room to make himself decent. But since he was done with Steve Rogers, and since he didn’t need to for John’s sake, there was no need to at all. So, he just crossed his arms and leaned against his doorframe. 

“Yeah?” He grunted. “What’dya want?”  
“Detective Rogers wants to check in with you about last night,” John told him roughly, his face pinched in irritation. “Do you even _remember_ last night, _Bucky_? Or were you so drunk that you can’t remember almost being _arrested_?”

Bucky flinched at his words. Sure, John was annoyed with him. It wasn’t like that particularly bothered him all that much. This wouldn’t be the first time Bucky annoyed him and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was the fact that he believed so easily that he was so inebriated that he’d have to be arrested that bothered Bucky. 

He licked his teeth and sucked in an angry breath through flared nostrils. “Yes, I recall being _almost_ , wrongfully arrested last night, John. But I wasn’t.”  
“Yeah, thanks to _me_ , you ungrateful little shit.”  
“All right, that’s enough.” Steve interrupted. “How about I speak with Mr. Barnes in private?”  
“Suit yourself,” John shrugged and stormed away. “I’ll wait for you by the door, Rogers.”

When it was just the two of them, Bucky simply looked out at Steve and Steve stood out in the hall for a minute or two. Once John had left, Steve’s professionalism had changed to casual and relaxed. When Bucky didn’t do anything, and just stood in the doorway naked and silent, it shifted again, this time to puzzled.

“May I come in?”  
Bucky shrugged. “If you want.”

Stepping back into the room, Bucky moved aside so that Steve could come in. He waited until he was clear of the door before closing it behind him again and leaned against it while Steve turned around to face him. There was a cute smile on his face.

“Did you want to put something on?”

Not amused, and finding himself even angrier at him for some reason, Bucky just felt his arrogance rise to the occasion. He just crossed his arms, cocked his lips, and lifted his eyebrows.

“Why? Does this make you uncomfortable?”  
Steve chuckled like he wasn’t fooled. “I’m fine. Just not sure what you’re going to say if someone walks in and sees you talking to me like that.”

He had a point. And it ticked him off even more. But since he made a good point, Bucky went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, pulled them on, and then flung himself down right at the edge of the bed. He had himself positioned haphazardly. One leg hung off the side of the mattress, the other just shoved towards the center, and he put his arm behind his head. Bucky waited for Steve to say something. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asked, his eyebrows stitched.   
“I’m fine.”  
“You do understand why I did that last night, right?” Steve said. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but I needed it to look real so your escort would really believe it.”  
Bucky shrugged, his eyes hard and lips set in a line. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

Steve’s eyes wandered about the room as though he was trying to think about something very hard. 

“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” Bucky told him.   
“No one hurt you, did they?”  
Bucky sat straight up with his arms pinned against his chest.   
“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me, Detective?” He growled. “You mean, did _Alex_ hurt me? No, no, Alex, did not hurt me. He _wouldn’t_ hurt me.”  
“No, Bucky, that’s not…”  
“I know what you’re trying to do.”  
Steve turned his head slightly and looked both confused and innocent at the same time. “Bucky, I’m not trying to…”  
“You’re trying to get me to turn against Alex,” He accused, though this accusation came out of nowhere. It made sense though. Why else would he have tried to get all chummy with him? Or tried to make him think he was worth more than he really was? “You’re…”

He stopped talking, slamming his mouth closed and doing what he could to maintain an air of indifference, when Steve moved towards him. His heart banged against his ribs the second Steve reached out gently touched his face. The warmth and softness of his strong hand made his stomach clench. 

“I’m just here to make sure you’re okay,” 

It took all the willpower Bucky had not to close his eyes and melt into Steve’s warm touch. Instead, he swallowed the hard lump that formed in his throat and shoved his hand away. This was the right thing to do. He knew it.

“Well, you did. And I’m fine.”  
“Okay,” The relaxed and friendly attitude about him had turned back into the cop persona again. “If you need anything, you can call me.”   
“I won’t need anything from you. Alex gives me all that I need. I shouldn’t have even called you last night. That was a mistake.”

Steve nodded like a professional and started to leave, lingering for a few moments over by Bucky’s dresser. It looked like he was searching for something there. But he continued on his way without taking anything. 

“The offer still stands, Bucky,” He said on his way out. “If you need anything, you can call me.” 

Steve didn’t even turn around when he left. 

So angry, Bucky took his pillows and flung them across the room. All of them flew in different directions. One of them crashed into the mirror on his dresser. For a minute, Bucky considered just leaving the room like that and letting someone else clean it up. What did it matter anyway? But for some reason, he found himself not wanting to have someone clean up after him. Bucky got up to fix the mess, even making the bed and getting his suit ready to send out for dry cleaning. 

When he went to pick up the things that were knocked over by his pillow on his dresser, he noticed something there that didn’t belong. It was a folded piece of paper. Bucky picked it up and opened it. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There was a sketch of someone on it, someone beautiful. It was wonderfully done, the shadowing perfect and the lines flawless. That’s when Bucky realized, with a sudden jolt to his heart, that this was a sketch of him. Near the corner of the sketch, right where the drawing ended, were the initials SR. 

The paper made a sound when his hands trembled. Bucky wiped his eyes, making sure no moisture was there. He didn’t understand this. Why would Steve draw him like this? Did he really see him like that? Like this beautiful person in this picture? Bucky glanced at himself in the mirror. The reflection that looked back at him was not the man in drawing. It couldn’t be. 

Steve was wrong. He was wrong about everything.


	10. You’re About To Embark on the Journey of Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for stopping by! Hope you like! Leave a comment if you do please! Comments make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :)

The hospital room was filled with flowers, which Clint continuously grumbled about. He told them all it made him feel like he was in a funeral parlor, which he said was silly because he wasn’t dead. 

“Deal with it,” Natasha instructed. “It’s what people do when someone does something reckless and almost dies.”

Clint cupped his hand around his ear and leaned closer to her. “Eh? What was that?”

Narrowing her eyes, she probably would have slugged him right in the jaw if he wasn’t laid out in that hospital bed already. 

“Don’t think I won’t kick your ass after you go to rehab.” She warned. “I gotta sharp memory. That bed won’t save you forever.”

He stretched his lips like he had made a mistake in teasing her. Sitting backwards on the folding car across the room, Sam let out a chuckle.

“Careful, Barton,” he said. “I wouldn’t test her.”  
“Not after the past few days we’ve been through especially,” Steve added. “Fury giving us a week’s leave is hardly going to make up for it.”  
“Hey, hey,” Clint replied. “S’not my fault you took so long to figure it all out.”  
“You know, we could put you back under that pile of rubble.” Natasha threatened.   
“No, no,” he waved his good hand out to her. “I’m good.”

They had spent the morning, and now a good chunk of the afternoon, just like this. Tony had been by and done some tests with the hearing aid he was working on. He even ended up leaving it with Clint so that he could get used to it while he went and worked on a finished product. When he left, he gave a meaningful look to Steve, but didn’t say anything. Bruce had been in a few times to check on Clint, and was always glad to report, in his soft spoken ways, that he was doing fine.

It was nice, and a huge weight off of Steve’s chest after all that had happened. To see Natasha’s sadistic, yet aloof grin and hear her saucy comebacks felt normal. Having Sam all smiles, posture relaxed and ever flirtatious was comforting. And though Clint was bandaged, hooked up to wires and IVs, and his face was sunburned and black and blue, and he was stiff and very still, he was just as laidback as ever and cracking jokes like nothing had happened. It reassured Steve that they would all recover from this. 

It wouldn’t be tomorrow, of course. They, like all wounds, needed time to heal. But they would. They were a family. They were his family. And that made Steve so proud. He watched them, listened to them, as they continued to make witty banter, and just smiled. They were the only family he had now--them and the few others he come to love as such--and he would do whatever it took to protect them. He’d already lost one family. Steve wasn’t willing to lose another. 

_Steve let his heavy backpack fall on the floor by his feet when he approached the pharmacy counter. He clutched the strap of it, well aware that letting it go for even just a few seconds in this neighborhood was enough to get it snatched away. There was a thick, bulletproof partition between him and the workers back there. Pharmacies were a hot target around here._

_“What’s the name?” The tech, a skinny woman with pale skin and short blonde hair, asked without bothering to come over.  
“Uh, Rogers,” Steve told her. “Sarah Rogers.”_

_She hadn’t looked over, but she nodded in recognition. Going right over to the bin, she snatched up three white presciption bags and went to the register. She scanned whatever she needed to scan, peeled the labels off the bags and stuck them on her ledger before bringing it over to him._

_“Sign there,” She instructed after she pushed it through the little window._

_Steve did what she asked and slid it back through. She scanned for the prices and shouted them back to him._

_“That’ll be $300.00.”_

_Pulling his backpack on again, slinging it to the side so that it hung around his torso, he fished through the front pocket for his wallet, He pulled out a credit card and gave it to the lady. His palms were sweaty as he waited for her to run it. He saw her shake her head before she turned back around._

_“No good.” She told him and slid it back though._   
_“Oh…” Steve put that one back and took another out. No, that one was already at it’s limit. He got another. “Okay, try this one.”_

_She clicked her tongue as she went back over to give that one a try. After a few seconds, she turned back around, tongue pressed against her cheek and shook her head. There was a line forming behind Steve now, and he could hear a few mumbled complaints._

_“Could...could you try it again, please? It should work.”_

_He could tell she rolled her eyes when she twirled again and swiped the card through the reader. Steve felt the relief go through his entire body when he saw the receipt printing out. He signed for everything quickly, took his bag full of medicines and hurried out before anyone decided to blame him for making them wait so long._

_Before getting far, he shoved his bag into his backpack. He didn’t want to be seen walking down the streets with it. The walk home was short, only about ten minutes, and since the air was warming, winter winds quickly being replaced by spring zephyrs, it wasn’t bad. Steve was almost up to his building when he heard a loud crash and some shouting. Just a few feet ahead of him was an alley, and down it were two boys, one beating the hell out of the other._

_Steve stood there for a second. The bully was much bigger than his victim, and from the looks of it, older as well. Steve knew it was wiser to just walk away. He knew this was none of his business. But he also knew what it was like to be small and scrawny like that kid on the ground and have no one to help him. And puberty had been pretty kind to him._

_“Hey!’ He called out. “Leave him alone!”  
The bully spun around, fists out, and flipped him off. “Mind your business, ass.”_

_Stepping into the alley, Steve caught the boy’s wrist right before he would have hit the other kid again._

_“Pick on someone your own size,” He said, standing a few inches taller than him and then pushing him away._

_Rather than attempting to fight with the boy, Steve went straight to helping the other boy up. But before he could, he was spun around and punched right in the side of the face. It was the only hit he took since the bully ran out of the alley right after that, but it was enough to push him into the side of the building. He let out a humorless chuckled and looked down at the kid by his feet, shocked to see how young he really was. This kid was nine, maybe ten, and he was putting his glasses back on._

_“You okay?” He asked.  
The nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”  
“No problem.” He reached down and was able to help him up this time. “You should get home. Clean up and put some ice on that.”  
“Okay,” He whispered. “Thanks again.”_

_The kid shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled slowly towards the sidewalk. Steve watched him for a moment before realizing why he was dragging his feet._

_“Do you want me to walk with you?”  
He perked up. “Could you? I don’t live far. Just around the block, but…”  
“I get it.” He told him. “I’m Steve.”  
“I’m Peter,” He beamed up at him.  
“How old are you, Peter?”  
“I’m nine and half.”  
“What are you doing out?”  
He gave him an impish look. “I’m not supposed to walk home from school, but,” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a comic book. “The newest issue of The Deadly Viper came out today and I didn’t want to wait.”  
Steve laughed, swung his backpack around and yanked out the very same comic. “I hope it’s worth it.”   
“Oh, too cool!” Peter exclaimed. “Do you think we’ll find out who Doctor Death is this week?”  
“I sure hope so. My money’s on Victor Simone. How about you?”  
“I think it’s Ray Light,” He said. “Cause he’s a scientist and he worked with all that radiation and nuclear stuff.”  
“That does make sense.”  
“Uh-oh,” he muttered, eyes wide as he looked down the block.  
Steve followed his gaze.  
“What’s wrong?”  
He pointed down to the woman, a few houses away, who had her back to them.   
“That’s my aunt. I bet she’s mad.”_

_She turned then, and sure enough, her entire face first lit up with relief and then flushed red with anger.  
“Peter!” She shouted. “Peter Parker, you get over here right now!”  
“Oh, man,” He whined. “Thanks for walking with me,” He said as he started to jog away. “See ya, Steve! I’m coming, Aunt May! I’m fine! I’m fine!”_

_Steve smiled and stopped to watch as Peter’s Aunt May pulled him into a hug before bringing him inside._

_When Steve walked into his place, locking all the locks on the door after closing it behind him, he went straight to his mother’s bedroom. Fear gushed through him when he saw that his mother was not in her bed and right across the hall the only bathroom was empty._

_“Mom!”  
“I’m in…” her cough stopped her from speaking any further, but Steve had figured out where she was.   
He sprinted into the kitchen. “Mom, what’re you doing?”_

_She was at the sink with an empty pitcher. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was trying to fill it. But she was shaky, so shaky Steve wasn’t sure how she was even standing, and ghostly white._

_“It was empty. I just…”  
“I’m sorry I was late,” He told her, coming over to her and guiding her to the kitchen table. “Here, sit down. I’ll take care of that and we’ll get you back in bed.”_

_Leaving her alone while he went to school was his worst nightmare. But she insisted that he go everyday and he wouldn’t, couldn’t really, deny her her dying wish of him getting his high school diploma._

_After his father had died, Sarah Rogers supported him all on her own. They had no other family, not since Steve’s grandmother--his dad’s mom--had died a year earlier. Sarah had gotten a nursing degree right before she had him, but hadn’t gone full time until they were on their own. She took as many shifts as she could get in order to pay their bills and to provide for Steve. He had always been a sickly child, and that didn’t change when his father died. There were still doctor visits which came with bills and medicines which came with prices. Steve remembered coughs in the summer and pneumonia in the winter, with fevers and nausea and cramps and chills and his mother waiting up all night no matter how hard she had worked during the day. There were protein shakes that he needed to drink that tasted like dirt and pills that were hard to swallow and times when he was sure Sarah ate nothing at all. When he started getting older, he started getting better, and the doctors had him on a strict diet with an even stricter medicine and vitamin regimen that kept him healthy and strong._

_Even with all her working, his mother still managed to be at parent-teacher conferences and baseball games and always had a lunch ready for him. She got him everything she could, while denying herself even the littlest of luxuries. So when she started getting sick, Steve was devastated. He went with her to every doctor’s appointment, every counseling, every second and third opinion. He listened to every doctor, every therapist, every pharmacist. Steve would do anything to save his mother. And when he accepted that that would never happen, long after she accepted her own fate, he would see to it that she would suffer as little as possible._

_He got everything set up for her before he left every morning, made sure she had lunch in the cooler right next to her, and a full pitcher of water. She was still able to just get to the bathroom, but he came home many times and needed to change her and the sheets. There were a few neighbors he could trust to check in on her during the day, but since they usually worked, Steve was on his own. She had been in a hospital for over four months, but he knew they weren’t treating her right. They didn’t have the right amount of money to get the proper care. In fact, she was probably getting treated much better by being left alone during the day. Steve felt utterly hopeless and alone in this. He had a few memories of his dad, a trip to the park to play catch and a piggy-back ride, a warm smile and tight hug, a hearty laugh and a happy face, but he was just five when he died. There was no one else. His mother was everything to him. Once she got sick, diagnosed with stomach cancer just a year ago, Steve forgot he even had any friends. He devoted all his time to taking care of his mother._

_“I can make some soup for dinner, okay?” He suggested.  
She got out a weak laugh. “Aren’t you sick of soup? You can make something else for yourself, you know?”  
“No way,” He smiled. “I’ll have what you’re having.”_

_Since he didn’t need to be as strict with his diet anymore, not since the vitamins he took were a pretty decent supplement, Steve didn’t mind sacrificing a bit of his own health and strength in order to keep her comfortable. Steve filled the pitcher and set it aside on the table. He then went over to his mother and helped her back into the one bedroom in the place. Patting her down with a cool compress, he made sure she was comfortable before leaving again._

_“I got your medicine,” He told her when he came back with the water. “I think…”  
“Did you…” She needed to take in a deep breath. “Get into a fight?”  
Steve’s hand automatically touched the spot he got hit. He shook his head.   
“Not really. Just got hit,” He responded. “It’s why I was late. I saw this little kid getting bullied and stepped in. I shouldn’t have stopped and made you wait. I’m sorry, I just…”  
“Of course you should have,” She interrupted. “You did…” His mother breathed in deeply, “the right thing. Always protect the weak, Steve. It’s what makes you great. You make the world beautiful.”_

_Steve glanced around the room. The walls were covered in his drawings. Some were sketches of his mother before she got sick, there were sunsets or sunrises, and flowers and trees, but most were of far off places that they’d never, and would never, see together._

_“Not just with art, baby,” She said, pulling his attention away from his sketches and back to her. “You make it...beautiful...by being...you…”_

_Not knowing what to make of, or to say to that, Steve simply smiled and then poured her a glass of water. He handed her each of the pills he’d gotten today and kissed her forehead._

_“Are you hungry?” He asked. “I’ll heat up some supper.”_

_Soup was one of the few things she was able to keep down nowadays. It didn’t take long to make and wasn’t expensive, which was a huge plus. Steve had been living off of the ten credit cards he’d taken out in his mother’s name over the past year once their savings had been spent and their insurance had been cut off. All those years of Sarah Rogers’ hard work as a nurse had gotten her about three months worth of coverage. Ever since some business man had taken over the hospital a few years ago, all their benefits and pay had taken serious cuts. But his mother never complained for her sake. All she ever did was apologize for what Steve had to do for her. She was in pain, he knew that, he could see it, and she never complained about it. She took it in stride just so he didn’t have to suffer any more than he already was._

_When he carried the tray full of their supper back into her, she was watching the television, a peaceful grin on her face. He set the tray down next to her, helped his mother sit up, fluffing the pillows behind her so that she was comfortable, and then slowly fed her what she could eat of the small bowl he’d poured out for her, which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot, before he had some of his own. After they were finished with their dinner, Steve cleaned up, washing the few dishes he’d made, and then grabbed his art supplies from the living room._

_“Okay, Mom, where’dya wanna go tonight?”_

_A tiny grin pulled up a little on her lips and her eyes moved about the room as she looked to all the drawings._

_“Oh, where haven’t we gone?” She whispered. Her eyebrows moved up. “How about mountains?”  
“Mountains?”  
“Yes,” Her head moved very slowly in a nod. “Mountains with...a great...view.”  
He smiled for her. “Mountains with a view. You got it, Mom.” _

_Steve sat down right next to her and set up a folding table before flipping open his big sketch pad to a fresh page. He opened the case with all his various pencils and picked the one he wanted, then started lightly drawing grey lines across the page. Before long, he was lost in the lines and shades and shapes he was creating so he could take his mother away from this bedroom even if only for a few seconds. She always told him how much she enjoyed watching him work on a new piece--that he’d get so lost in it he looked as though he’d forgotten about the real world around him. Sometimes Steve wondered if some piece of him was ever pulled into the art itself until he was finished with it._

_If the lighting in the room hadn’t changed, Steve wouldn’t have realized that nearly two hours had gone by. He wouldn’t even have stopped working if his mother hadn’t suddenly touched his wrist._

_“What’s wrong, Mom?” He asked. “Do you…”  
“I’m sorry, Steve,” She murmured._

_He angled the chair towards her and brushed some of the hair out of her face. Giving her a calming smile, he held her hand._

_“It’s okay, Mom,” He reassured her. “Everything is…”  
“Steve,” She said, mustering more strength in her voice than he had heard in months. “I’m sorry you’re father is gone. I’m sorry you’re going to be alone.” His mother started breathing in heavily enough that he could see her chest filling up with a lot of air. “But you’re so strong, Steve, my son.”  
He felt a lump forming in his throat. “I guess I’m like my mom that way.”  
Her eyes were closing, but she smiled for him. “Love, baby. You need it. You give it. Don’t hold it back, ever. It’s who you are. You’re going to save the world, Steve Rogers. One person at a time.” She started to tremble and clenched her jaw. “I love you, Steve. I love you so much.”  
“Mom, what’s wrong? What are you doing? Don’t say goodbye. I’ll go call…”  
“No…” she stopped him. “Stay…” _

_She managed to reach up and cup his cheek, her eyes closed and trembling stopped. Steve took hold of her hand to keep it there._

_“I love you, Steve.”  
“Mom,” His voice cracked. “I love you.”_

_When she didn’t say anything else, Steve felt his lip start to quiver. And when her hand almost slipped away from his cheek, he caught it and kept trying to get her to keep it by his face again._

_“Mom?” He whispered. “Mom...please. Please, open your eyes.” Steve reached out and shook her a little, tears filling his eyes. “Mom, don’t go. You can’t go. I…” He reached to pull over his sketch pad. “I haven’t taken you to the mountains yet. Please…” He didn’t realize he was crying until his voice got high and broke. “Please, come back. Don’t leave me, Mom.”_

_Steve buried his face in her shoulder and wept. A few minutes later he called 9-1-1, but they came just to tell him what he already knew. She was gone._

_Two days later she was buried next to his father. The funeral parlor that helped with the arrangements were very understanding, so the small funds Steve got from the state were enough to cover the little bit that he did for her. There were a few people to mourn with him. Friends from school who he had barely seen outside of classes in nearly a year, teachers, and some neighbors. They all gave their condolences, all said how sorry they were and how Sarah was such a nice lady._

_Right after the funeral two people from Child Protective Services came to drive him back to the home he’d shared with his mother so he could pack what few belongings he could before they hauled him off to some temporary foster home. At sixteen years old, Steve Rogers became a ward of the state._

“You okay over there?” 

Until Sam spoke, Steve didn’t realize that he had gotten misty eyes. His mother had been absolutely right in saying he needed love. Steve, well, he loved love. These were the first people since her that he really did love.

“Yeah,” He laughed. “I’m glad to be here today. Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”  
“Aw, look,” Clint sniggered. “I got Steve all choked up.”  
Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Nat’s not the only one you should be worried about, ya know.”  
“Aw, man,” he sighed. “I can’t win.”  
He laughed and then got up. “Look, I should probably get going. It’s getting late and there’re a couple of things I gotta do before I head home.”

Steve saw the way Natasha had looked away when they made eye contact. It was like she suspected him of something, but didn’t want to come out and say it. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Clint asked.  
“Sure thing.”  
“See ya, Steve,” Natasha said, giving him that smile she gave to people when she knew something they didn’t. 

Steve glanced around the room for a bit, expecting something to happen. When it didn’t, he gave one final farewell and then left. He had just boarded the elevator, and was looking down at his phone when someone was next to him. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Sam asked.   
His stomach twisted. “Talk about?”  
“Whatever it is that’s going on with you.”  
Steve hated lying to any of them, Sam especially. “What’re you…?”  
“Come on, Steve,” Sam sighed. “We’re not blind. We can see what something’s up. You’re not the only good detective around here. You went to see Tony last night about something.”  
“When did he…” Steve stopped and then sighed. “Shit. You didn’t really know that until right now, did you?”  
Sam grinned. “Yup. We saw the look he gave you. So what’s up?”  
“It’s…” It was what? Personal? Complicated? Not their business? None of those answers were appropriate or fair. “I don’t know.”

Steve didn’t want to think about last night. About that smile, or those eyes, or that wonderful laugh, or those tears, or that fear. Though it wasn’t all that surprising, he didn’t want to think about this morning. And he most definitely did not want to think about what he was getting himself into, or that Bucky was worth it--worth it all. 

“We’re here for you, Steve,” Sam assured him. “You know that.”  
“I know it.” he agreed. “I just…”  
“Not time? When it is the time, when you need the help, you better promise that you’re not going to pull some Barton crap. You’ll come to us instead.”  
Steve chuckled. “I will, Sam. I promise.”  
He got a warm pat on the back. “I better get back up there. Those two are probably at each others throats or making out.”

They laughed together as Steve stepped out of the elevator and Sams stayed on to let it take him back up. Steve tried to hold it together, to keep the good mood being with his team, his family, put him in intact, but the moment he got in his car and started it, it felt like he was deflating. 

Bucky pushed his way right back into his mind. Not just last night and this morning, but his file and everything Steve had read on him. When Steve first saw the missing person file for the fifteen year old James Barnes, first reported missing by Wendy Pine--his mother--Steve had feared that Pierce had kidnapped him and turned him into what he was today. Turned out he was wrong. Not that it didn’t mean however Bucky and Pierce met didn’t change the fact that Pierce was responsible for who he was today. 

Although Steve had originally obtained these files as a way to get to Bucky in order to get to Pierce, his motivation had shifted. There really hadn’t been anything that would help get Pierce anyway. Because of that, he did what he could to keep out of the more personal details of Bucky’s life. He read that the Barnes’ lived in a semi-decent neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, a place nicer than where Steve lived, but it was just as easy to get sucked into the chaos this city was made of. His father, George Barnes, an army vet, had died in an accident when he was seven, and his mother, Wendy, who seemed to have worked odd jobs, had remarried a man named Hank Pine when he was eleven. Bucky maintained honor roll grades and, other than a few fights on his school records, didn’t get into much trouble. 

There wasn’t much to go on until the missing persons report. Bucky was living out on the streets for a little over a year before he went off with Pierce--and, from what Steve could tell from the file, on and off during the year before that as well--and had quite a number of arrests on his juvenile record. They were for trespassing and shoplifting and vandalism and prostitution and overnights in detox and basically charges that no judge wanted to waste taxpayers’ dollars on by sending some juvenile that no one cared about to jail on. There was even a video of him breaking into the mini-mart of a closed gas station with a group of teenagers. 

Right there in his file it told Steve that a few months before Bucky’s seventeenth birthday, he was under Alexander Pierce’s guardianship. It wasn’t a legal guardianship, or anything like that. But the police had gone to Wendy Pine to tell him that they’d located her son and that he was being taken care of. There was a large deposit made in an account for her--an account that had only her name on it. Steve assumed that was hush money. Or rather, money just to pay her off for no drama. Pierce didn’t need to hush her from the police. He could have easily had her killed. 

There wasn’t anything after that for three years, up until just after he turned nineteen. Bucky had held, or, as it would seem, attempted to hold a bunch of jobs, none of which he kept beyond a few weeks. He was out working for a full year until that trail ended. Then after that, there was nothing. It was like he completely fell of the face of the earth. But knowing what Steve knew, it was worse than that, and that’s what scared and sickened him most.

Steve wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know Bucky, knew nothing other than what he’d learned over one drunken evening and a file. But he needed to do something. He just had to. 

It was as though Bucky was completely owned by Pierce since he was sixteen years old. Other than some sort of attempt to live on his own during one year, every bit of him belonged to Pierce.


	11. Presenting Chapter Eleven

It was cramped. Dark and cramped. Bucky couldn’t breathe right. There was something over his face. He wasn’t sure where he was until he tried rolling over. A bubble of panic burst through him, spreading throughout his entire body like an infection. The trunk. He was back in the trunk. Back in the trunk and being driven somewhere. This wasn’t right. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing wrong. He hadn’t even left the house on a free day. He hadn’t even left the house at all. Bucky had been with Alex. So what was he doing in the trunk?

Fear pooled in his belly as he shouted to be let out. He pleaded, swearing he did nothing wrong, and banged on the top like it would pop open. This wasn’t the way to go about this. He knew that. Yelling and struggling always made it worse. But Bucky hadn’t done anything this time! He was sure of it!

“Bucky! You dumb, little shit, where are you?”

When Bucky heard that voice scream out for him he fell silent. What was he doing here? How did he find him? Did they take him there? 

“Bucky!” He yelled again.

Shaking all over, Bucky didn’t know if he should keep trying to get out or just curl up even more in an attempt to hide. There were footsteps out there. Footsteps getting louder. Bucky slapped his hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to make himself invisible like he used to try to do under his bed. The footsteps stopped right outside…

 

Bucky’s eyes popped open. He woke with a gasp and out of breath, all his muscles tensed and limbs curled. Sweat soaked and trembling, he sat up and glanced around frantically. He was in his room. Safe. Next to him, still sleeping, was Alex. He’d spent the night with him. Hand on his chest as he tried, and failed, to control his breathing and stop all the shaking, Bucky wiped his face to find it tearstained. 

A nightmare. That’s all it was. Just a nightmare. There was no need for this. He was fine, perfectly fine. Bucky wasn’t being punished, Bucky wasn’t in the trunk of the car, and _he_ wasn’t there for him. He looked around the dark room for more validation. Everything was where it should be. The smell of the ocean air somehow creeped in from outside. The bed was soft and light under his body. Alex’s breathing was steady and even. Everything was fine. 

And, yet, everything was wrong. Bucky couldn’t shake the dream from his mind, from his body. It was all over him like a rabid animal, sinking it’s teeth into the deepest fears Bucky had and ripping them forward. It had been a long time since he’d had a bad dream. Months, even. This one had been particularly bad. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke feeling this way. Tears still pricked at his eyes. 

“Alex?” Bucky said just above a whisper. 

He was sleeping on his side, his back to Bucky. They had both fallen asleep topless and now Bucky was feeling more vulnerable than ever. He gave Alex’s shoulder a quick shake.

“Alex?” He repeated a little louder. 

Alex made a noise and stirred a little, rolling onto his back. Bucky called his name one more time and he sucked in a breath through his nose before opening his eyes. 

“What?” He asked, his voice rough and scratchy. “What is it?”

Even though Bucky was sitting up and looking down at him, he felt so tiny and lost in Alex’s gaze. 

“I had a bad dream,” He murmured.   
Alex groaned.   
“You woke me because you had a dream?” He shook his head and then reached out and tapped Bucky’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, Bucky.”

Without another comment, gesture or look, Alex rolled back over to face the other direction. He was asleep in moments. Bucky could hear the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. 

“But…” his lower lip quivered and his voice dropped below a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Bucky sat there and pulled his legs up, keeping them under the blanket. Alex told him to go back to sleep, but sleep was beyond him now. He got out of bed and ambled out into the hall, pulling his arms around himself. He moved slowly, cautiously, like he was afraid someone was going to jump out at him. This was getting absurd. Just a few days ago he strolled through these halls like he owned them. While he knew he didn’t, he could do pretty much whatever he wanted. Aside from a few of Alex’s higher ups, men like Brock Rumlow, everyone was at his beck and call. He could snap his fingers and get what he wanted. If he wanted to go somewhere, there was someone to take him. If he wanted to eat something, there was someone to cook it. If he wanted something from the store, there was someone to get it for him. If he felt like ordering some ridiculously expensive, well, anything, he could do it. It could arrive, stay in the box and end up in the back of a closet somewhere untouched and no one would say a word. Yet here he was, roaming the halls in the dead of night, holding onto himself like a child afraid of the dark. 

Downstairs, there were a few guards moving about. They ignored him just like he ignored them. Bucky found himself wandering into the kitchen and flicked the lights on. Maybe something to eat would settle his nerves. He went to the fridge and pulled the door opened, stood there for a few moments inspecting the inside and then decided he wanted ice-cream instead. The freezer was stocked with his favorite ice-cream, vanilla fudge swirl. The last time there was none was about six years ago. Bucky pitched a fit and had gotten one of the kitchen workers fired because of it. Now, his ice-cream was always there when he wanted it. Once he had his ice-cream, he was about to sit at the table when he decided to take his bowl and go to the library instead. There, he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. He could be alone with someone else’s thoughts instead. 

Bucky grabbed a book from the shelf, he didn’t bother to see which one since he’d read almost all of them anyway, and sat down on the big arm chair. This was one of his favorite places in the house. During the day, the sun shined in brightly through the windows behind him. Right now, though, it was sort of creepy. There were no lights as far as the eye could see, like they had all been swallowed by some beast and were now rotting in the pit of its stomach. Bucky shuddered and focused on shoveling ice-cream in his mouth and reading his book. Even when he was finished with the bowl though, and a few chapters into the book, chills still flew up his spin and spread through his limbs. There was a lingering anxiety, something that just wouldn’t go away. Bucky wanted someone to tell him that he was going to be okay.

“Oh, give me a break,” He grumbled to himself. “What are you? 12?”

With a sigh, he was determined to not let some silly dream get to him, and was about to go back to reading when his eyes caught a glimpse of the phone in the room. Bucky immediately shook the thought away. It hadn’t mattered that he got rid of the business card two, well, since it was three in the morning, three days ago. He already had the number memorized. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he stuck his face back in the book and concentrated on the words. Or tried to. Because no matter how many times he read the same sentence over and over and over again, he had no idea what it said. 

“Damn it.”

He snapped the book closed and just stared at the phone. It really late. So maybe he’d just get a voicemail. 

“Or maybe you drop it.” He demanded of himself.

Three days ago Bucky had made up his mind to cut Steve out. He didn’t need him. Not then, not now. He meant it.

But maybe if he just spoke to him for just a second he’d feel better…

“You’re pathetic, Bucky,” He mumbled. “You can’t do anything right.”

With a sigh, he heaved off the chair and dragged his feet over to the desk where the phone was. He picked it up. Much to his embarrassment, even though there was no one there to see, his hand shook. Conflict tore him apart. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But something in his gut told him to do it anyway. Which was probably the reason why he always found himself in the worst imaginable situations. He always chose wrong. 

Bucky dialed the number, pressing down hard on each number as though he’d misdial if he didn’t. His chest hurt. It hurt even more when the phone rang. It rang a second time. And then a third. And then…

“Detective Rogers,”

His voice was heavy and gruff. He had probably woken him up. In fact, it sounded like he may have yawned. Bucky didn’t answer.

“Detective Rogers,” Steve repeated, this time a little firmer and louder.

Bucky remained silent. His grip on the phone was tight, but his throat felt even tighter. He opened his mouth once and nothing came out.

“Hello?”

 

Bucky closed his eyes, disappointed in himself for both what he’d done and how he was handling it. 

“...Bucky?”

Eyes popping open, Bucky nearly gasped at the sound of his name coming through the receiver. He had made sure to block the number, even though everything in the house was set up to be private. The phone was still pressed up against his ear, but he was staring at it. 

“Bucky, are you okay?”

A part of Bucky wanted to tell Steve about the dream so he would tell him that it was okay. Another part of him wanted to scream. He did neither. Bucky tore the phone away from his ear and ended the call, squeezing the thing in his hand as if it was what caused his stress. The nerve of that man. Thinking he knew him so damn well already. Steve didn’t know anything about him. There was no reason that he would be calling him at this insane hour. For Steve to just assume that it was him infuriated Bucky. Still, he had been right, and the thought of that calmed Bucky, like a warm anesthetic pulsing through his veins. 

He dropped the phone back on the desk with a sigh. Bucky curled back up on the chair with his book and read for a while until he fell back to sleep, Steve’s warm voice swirling through his mind. 

***

There was a pleasant sensation pumping between Bucky’s legs. He wasn’t fully awake, but nor was he asleep anymore. Since the effects of dreaming still hadn’t worn off, Bucky felt Steve touching him, working him up more and more. It felt good. It felt so, so good. Bucky wanted to tell him that. He wanted to ask him not to stop. 

“Don’t stop...please…” He felt his mouth getting the words out to the waking world. “Oh…”

Hearing his own voice helped him to wake up some more, and when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure why he was so shocked to see Alex crouched over him. He had somehow worked Bucky’s pants down without waking him. 

“Alex!” He exclaimed, immediately moving to straighten up.

In response, Alex made his grip around Bucky tighter, which, admittedly, turned him on a little more. 

“Who were you expecting, my boy?” He smiled and leaned in to kiss him while still moving his hand on Bucky. “What are you doing down here?”

It was morning. Alex was fully dressed and there were people going about their business. Bucky could hear them in the halls. He bit down on his lip and tried not to breath so heavily as he tilted his head back. 

“I asked you question, Bucky.”  
Still, he didn’t let up on what he was doing.   
“I, uh,” Bucky tried to concentrate on answering. “I couldn’t...sleep.”  
“Because of your dream?”

Bucky’s toes curled when Alex lowered his mouth and flicked him a little with his tongue. He let out a little whimper. 

“Yes…”  
“That’s too bad,” Alex murmured, running his free hand up Bucky’s chest. “You must be tired. Go get some sleep.”

On that final word, Alex stopped everything completely and got up to leave the room. A whine escaped the back of Bucky’s throat. 

“Oh, no, Alex, please...don’t go…”

Alex slowed to a pause and glanced over his shoulder. He eyed Bucky sitting there, having not moved an inch, and sneered. 

“Now just look at you, sitting there all needy,” He taunted. “Would you like some help over there?”  
Bucky nodded. “Please,”  
He turned all the way around and paced himself back over. He narrowed his eyes at him. “Who are you, James?”  
Bucky peered up at him. “Your boy.”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”  
“For me to be happy.”  
“And will this,” He grabbed him again, hard enough that it still felt good, but made him jump and gasp, “make my boy happy?”  
“Yes,” Bucky squeaked as Alex started to tease him with all the things he knew drove him wild with desire. 

***

It was nearly a full hour before Alex finally finished what he started. That was the way he liked to play with Bucky. Either he was using Bucky to please himself or he pleased himself by teasing the hell out of him until he was satisfied. 

Alex was sitting on the chair with Bucky’s head in his lap. Bucky ran his fingers over the hand that Alex had resting on his own knee while Alex played with his hair. 

“I have work to do, Bucky,” Alex said, but did nothing to disrupt their position.   
“Ooh,” He whined and shimmied about a bit. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”  
“No, no,” He chuckled and ran his hand across Bucky’s face, giving his cheek a light tap. “How else will you get all your needy desires taken care of?”

Bucky pouted, but didn’t question him any further. Not even when Alex slid out from under him. He stayed on the floor where he was and watched Alex go around to the back of the desk where he went through a couple of paper. Without lifting his chin, Alex glanced over at him. 

“I need to do work, James. You need to leave.”

He grimaced, but started to get up. As he was leaving he noticed the phone just sitting on the desk. A knot pulled in his stomach. He must have forgotten to put it back on its base last night. That made him think of Steve again. How did he know it was him? 

Bucky’s heart fluttered when Alex reached for the phone. It calmed again when he simply used it without any concern for why it was off the base in the first place. As soon as he was busy talking, Bucky got an idea. It wasn’t a good one--not that that was unusual--but he figured he’d give it a shot. Alex seemed to be in a really good mood today. 

“Hey, Alex?” Still talking to someone, Alex turned a little to see what he wanted. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna take a free day, okay?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” He waved him off and went right back to talking.

A wave of exhilaration washed over him. Bucky couldn’t believe he pulled that off. A free day. He got a free day that easily. No persuasions. No begging. No compromise. Just a free day. A day with no escorts. A day on his own. A day to…

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Alex’s arm was suddenly wrapped tightly around his waist. “Nice try, my boy. I have to say you, I’m a little impressed. You almost got away with that one.”

Since Alex had leaned into him, Bucky pressed back gently, holding onto Alex’s arm. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

They were still pressed up against each other so when Alex shook his head, Bucky could feel his chin move against his neck. 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He agreed, his voice far from the friendly, playful tone it had been earlier. “Come on,” He took hold of Bucky’s bicep and dragged him back into the library. “What do you want to do today that you need a free day?”  
Bucky shrugged. “Nothing in particular. I was just…”  
“You were just what? Just thinking you could do whatever you wanted like declare a free day without even asking me first?”  
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Alex. I just feel cluttered.”  
“So first you miss me and now you…”  
“Not from you!” Bucky interrupted and then folded his lips in because of it. But when Alex didn’t scold him for it, he went on. “I don’t feel cluttered by you. I love you, Alex. I just feel cluttered by everything else.”  
Alex pressed his lips together and lifted his chin. “Say it again.”

For a second, Bucky thought he wanted to be told why he wanted to use a free day. But then, by the look he was giving him, he thought he wanted something different.

“I love you, Alex.” He said softly.  
“Then let’s try this the right way.” He replied. “Let’s start again.”  
Bucky chewed his lip. “Alex, is it okay if I take a free day?”  
“And who are you?”  
“I’m your boy.”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”  
“For me to be happy.”  
Alex shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you. Not after what you just tried to pull. But since you’ve been so well-behaved and I’ve been so busy, I’m going to let you anyway.” Bucky could feel his face light up. “But any mishaps, _any_ at all, and you’re going to be very, _very_ restricted around here.” 

Alex picked up the phone again and called someone. This was all familiar to Bucky, the normal routine of taking a free day. He was watching him intently, and Bucky felt like he had already done something wrong. 

“My boy is taking a free day today,” Alex said to whichever of his employees he called. “Make sure it’s safe for him to be out today.”

Bucky felt incredibly guilty for trying to weasel his way into a free day. After all, these preparations Alex made were just because he loved him and wanted to keep him safe. Once he was finished talking, he hung up and gave Bucky a grave look. 

“Did you have fun this morning?” Grinning, Bucky nodded. “Then keep this morning in mind while you’re out today. Do not make any mistakes.”  
“Yes, Alex.”  
“All right. Go, get out of here. Be back by curfew.”   
Bucky held in a big smile. “Thank you, Alex.”

He hurried to go get ready. Bucky didn’t want to miss a minute, not one if he could help it. All he needed was a ride and then he was on his own for the day.


	12. Moving Right Along to Chapter Twelve

Bucky had them drop him off at the diner he’d been at earlier in the week. When John pulled over to let him out, he briefly considered giving him a thank you. It’s what Steve would have expected of him. But Bucky really didn’t want to thank him and thanking him wouldn’t be what Alex expected of him at all. And really that’s what mattered. All these conflicting thoughts were really giving him a headache. Besides, he didn’t really want to say thank you. So he didn’t. He just let John open the door for him and Bucky slid out of the car.

“I’ll be back for you at dusk.” He grumbled, closing the door for him. 

With a lazy wave over his shoulder, Bucky just continued down the sidewalk. He paused when John called out to him from the driver’s seat. 

“Hey!” Bucky glanced over at him. “If you’re not here when I get back…”

John drove off without completing the statement. He didn’t need to though. The threat was obvious. Annoyed by it, Bucky flipped him off, even though the car was long gone. Rolling his eyes, Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, sucked in a deep breath and just glanced around, taking a moment to enjoy this. No one was there--for him anyway. There were no eyes on him, no one to judge him, no one to rush him. Bucky could revel in the privacy Alex had generously allowed today. That thought made Bucky smile. He swirled around to face the diner and waltzed inside. 

“Hey, hun,” Greeted the waitress behind counter. She was about his height, perhaps a half an inch taller, with copper-colored skin and mahogany eyes and would probably be about his mother’s age. “By yourself today?”  
Bucky nodded. “Yup.”  
“Wanna sit right here?” She gestured to the counter.  
“Nah, I’ll take a booth,” he said. “And a cup of coffee, please.”  
“No problem,” she replied. “Take that booth there.”

He went to sit in the booth she pointed to, the first one in the row right against the windows, and noticed he had a clear view to the payphone right outside the restrooms. That was probably one of the last ones left in the entire city. Bucky poured some sugar into the coffee the waitress brought over to him right away. Hunger ached in his belly, growling a bit loudly as he peered through the menu. There was a strange anxiety beginning to stir inside of him though. As it stirred, he started losing his appetite. He was still hungry, but every time the waitress came out from around the counter to see if he wanted something more than another cup of coffee, his answer was no. He couldn’t bring himself to order anything. 

It was the payphone that had him on edge. Bucky’s eyes kept gliding up to it no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the coffee in front of him. He hunched over the table, circling the bottom of his glass along the top of it and watching the little bit of coffee left swirl around. His eyes lifted up again, seeking the phone. 

“Why don’t you just call?”

Bucky’s stomach clenched, his head snapping up to find whoever had said that to him. She was in the booth ahead of the one next to his. A pretty blonde woman, probably about his age, with creamy skin and rosy cheeks, who hadn’t even looked up from the book she was reading. She was dressed business-like, or more business casual, in a pencil skirt and button down blouse. There was a plate of scraps in front of her and a half glass of orange juice. Across from her was someone else’s plates, but the seat was empty.

“What?” Bucky asked. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes found him for just a second and a small grin twitched on her lips before she went right back to reading again. 

“You should call whoever it is you want to call.”  
Bucky looked at the phone and then back to her. “I don’t want to call anyone.”  
“Yes you do,” She told him. “No one watches a payphone waiting for it to ring.”

Without actually thinking about it, Bucky’s eyes glided back over to the phone. They lingered there for a few moments before he decided there was no point in hiding it from this lady. 

“How did you know I wanted to call someone?”  
She shrugged, that twitch of a smirk pulling up half her mouth. “Just part of what I do. But that phone is not going to get any closer to you.”  
“I don’t know if I should call or not.” He admitted and then ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back and he sat up in the seat. “Sides’, why waste any money on a call I might regret when I can just talk to you for free?”

He had pulled himself up and had that cocky grin on his face, even though she was still looking down at the page she was reading. When he said that though, his voice full of arrogance and laced with self-importance, she glared up at him. Her look was fierce. Clearly she was having none of his shenanigans, even his half-hearted attempts, and normally effective ways, at flirting. He cleared his throat with an awkward cough. She licked her teeth and lowered her book. 

“Not calling someone because you’re afraid is something you’ll regret _more_ than not calling.” Bucky lowered his gaze, but she went on. “You don’t want to be like Holden, do you?”

Head snapping up, Bucky stared at her for a second. He couldn’t help but smile at her, immediately understanding, or at least he hoped, her reference. 

“Holden? Holden Caulfield?”  
“Mhmm,” She nodded.  
“You read the Catcher in the Rye?”  
She laughed. “I’m pretty sure almost everyone who went to high school did. It used to be my favorite book.”  
“It’s not anymore?”  
“Nope.”  
“Why not?”  
She looked amused. “Because I grew up. And I realized that Holden Caulfield, while in need of some help and had very legitimate problems of his own, was an elitist spoiled brat.” Bucky held back a smile. He couldn’t help but think if this woman got to know him she wouldn’t like him very much. “And he pined and pined and pined over Jane Gallagher and _wanted_ to call her and _never_ did.”

Bucky twisted his lips. The woman started to come out of the booth, bag over her shoulder and book in her hand. She had her bill in her hand and a smirk on her face as she stood at the end of Bucky’s table. 

“You should call,” She said, and placed four quarters down on the table. “Really.”  
“You ready, Carter?”  
She flicked her eyebrows up at him and gave him an acknowledging nod before answering the woman who called her. “I’m coming, Hill.”

Bucky turned all the way around and watched her as she met the olive-skinned, black haired, sort of intense looking woman up at the register. They paid their bill and chatted as they walked out. At the door, Carter, as if she knew he was watching her, glanced over her shoulder and made a face at him--one that suggested she was once again advising him to make the call. 

The quarters were just sitting there on the table mocking him. The phone was doing the same across the diner. Resisting temptation was never one of Bucky’s strongest qualities. He snatched the coins up in his hand and marched over to the city’s last pay phone. He may have shared a lot of similarities with Holden Caulfield, but this would not be one of them. 

Picking the phone up off the receiver, Bucky first checked for a dial tone. It’d be quite ironic if all that fuss had been made when he couldn’t even use the damn phone. The gentle hum sang in his ear when he held the phone up to it. He pushed the quarter into the slot and dialed the stiff numbers slowly, realizing only on the last one how much he was shaking. 

“Get ahold of yourself,” He muttered before the call connected. 

The phone only rang twice before he got an answer.

“Detective Rogers,”

Like last night, Bucky didn’t say anything. Only this time, his voice seemed to be lost somewhere in his throat. 

“Hello?”

If Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve was going to hang up. This had to happen now if it was going to happen at all.

“Steve?”

Bucky could barely recognize his own voice. He didn’t even know how he got it working again.

There was a slight hesitation before Steve spoke again. “Yes?”  
“Um, this is…um…”  
“Oh,” Steve interrupted Bucky’s stuttering. “Bucky?”  
He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”  
Steve chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. Did you need something?”

Unlike last night, Steve sounded completely indifferent to having Bucky call him. Last night, he sounded concerned and worried. Or maybe Bucky had imagined that. Perhaps that’s just what Bucky wanted to hear. Either way, now Steve sounded like a cop again. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that or how to feel about it. One thing he knew for sure, it helped with talking to him right now.

“Are you busy?” He asked.  
“At the moment?” It sounded like Steve was preoccupied, there were faint noises of him doing things in the background, and not paying all that much attention to this call. “Not particularly. Why?”  
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to meet me at the diner,” Bucky suggested and then remembered there were lots of diners in the city. “I mean, the one we were at a few days ago.”

Whatever he had been doing, Steve must have stopped. There were no more sounds coming from the background anymore. 

“You want me to meet you again?”  
“Yeah, if you could.”  
The sounds picked up again. “Uh, sure, I guess that’d be okay. Are you there now?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay. Give me a few minutes.”

Steve hung up without giving Bucky the chance to say anything else, let alone say goodbye. It didn’t really matter, not if he was going to come. Bucky went back to his table. The diner was almost completely empty. There were only two other tables being used and two customers sitting up at the counter. When Bucky sat back down, the waitress came back over again with the pot of coffee.

“You want some more, hun?” She wondered.  
He nodded and moved the cup over so she could refill it. “Thanks.”  
“How bout anything else?”  
“Someone is meeting me,” He told her. “I think I’ll wait till he gets here.”  
“Okay, well, you let me know if you need anything.”

Preparing his coffee with milk and sugar, Bucky pulled out his own phone and scrolled through some news articles. Nothing really popped out as all that interesting. Something happened a few days ago over at the docks and he knew that one of Alex’s old business partners had been arrested over it, but Bucky hadn’t been paying much attention to the news lately. Moving his head to the side in order to stretch his neck and scratch it at the same time, something outside caught his attention. He focused on it and realized that Steve was crossing the street towards the diner. When he said a few minutes, he really meant it. 

As he crossed the parking lot, Bucky realized he wasn’t fully prepared to see him. Not in the way he was anyway. Bucky was expecting _Detective_ Rogers. Dressed in his usual business attire. That’s not who was coming over. _Steve_ Rogers was coming over. He had a pair of jeans, they looked like they had a bit of paint on them, and just a white t-shirt that fit snug enough around him Bucky could see the muscles through it even from there. Though he could have easily spotted him through the window if he looked, Steve trotted through the parking lot, up the few front steps and came in, the little bells above the door singing sweetly when he did.

“Steve!” The waitress greeted with warmth and familiarity. “I didn’t expect you this morning! You’re late then!”  
Steve laughed. “Sorry, Marlene. I hadn’t intended on coming in, but something...came up.”

Bucky hadn’t turned to look at him, but he was sure that Steve was looking at him when he said that. This time, when he reached the table, Steve looked a lot more sure of himself, but he still didn’t just sit down, 

“Bucky,” He greeted.  
“Hey, Steve,” He said. “You got here fast.”  
He grinned and glanced out the window. “I live across the street.”  
Even though he had no idea where he was actually looking, Bucky looked over there as well.  
“Really?”  
“Yep.” Steve replied, and when Bucky looked back at him, he was gazing around the diner like he was searching for something. “Where are your escorts?”  
Bucky almost sighed. How did he notice everything like that?  
“They’re not with me today. I have a free day.”  
“A free day?” He repeated. “You mean a day on your own?”  
He nodded, grateful that Steve understood so quickly. “Yeah.”  
“Oh,” He said and then finally sat down across from him, flipping open a menu when he did.  
Marlene came over just a few seconds later to pour Steve a cup of coffee and to see if they were ready to order anything.  
“You boys ready? Or you need some more time?”  
“I’m gonna have an egg white omelette,” Steve ordered. “With just a little cheddar cheese, ham and peppers. And a glass of orange juice.”  
“I love a boy with a healthy appetite,” Marlene teased and Steve grinned up at her. “And for you, hun?”  
“Oh, uh, I’ll have some…” He couldn’t remember what he’d looked at before. “I’ll take the French toast.”  
“You want a drink with that?”  
“Orange juice is good.”  
“Alrighty,” She smiled and took the menus back. “I”ll get the out right away.”

When they were alone, Steve just looked at Bucky, a pleasant, yet unreadable expression on his face. 

“You look good, Bucky,” He said. “I like your shirt.”

Bucky looked down at his shirt like he’d forgotten which one he’d put on. Like Steve, he was dressed pretty casually today, in just jeans and a tight grey t-shirt with a grey and black, plaid button t-shirt down over it. 

“Thanks.” 

There were so many things he wanted to say about what Steve had on, but Bucky was trying to not concentrate on the fact that he could practically see through that shirt of his. 

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked. “Do you want me to leave?”  
“No,” Bucky responded, realizing his face was tight and hard. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”  
Steve shook his head. “That’s alright. You’re not the first person to yell at me. Probably won’t be the last.” 

Just as he accepted the apology, Marlene brought over their juice. Steve thanked her and Bucky gave her a quick smile before drinking some. Before taking even a sip, Steve pulled out a pill case and started taking pills out of it. One by one, Steve popped them into his mouth and swallowed. He was on his eighth one when Bucky said something. 

“Are you sick?” He asked. 

Steve stopped what he was doing like he didn’t understand the question. Then he looked at the case and up to Bucky and his face seemed to light up with understanding. 

“Not _sick_ per se,” He told him. “I just need these to stay healthy and strong. I used to have a lot more, but my friend, Bruce, is a doctor, brilliant man, and he came up with a few combinations that worked better than all the others.”  
“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

Bucky folded his lips in and shook his head once. That’s not how he meant to ask that. But Steve chuckled. 

“Some of them are vitamins because my body doesn’t make enough naturally, there’s iron for my anemia, pills to keep my heartbeat regular, one for my liver so it keeps breaking things down properly, and one for protein because my body doesn’t get enough of that naturally either.”  
“How…” Bucky blinked twice. “How are you even alive?”  
Putting a few more of his pills in his mouth, Steve snickered. “Healthy diet, exercise, taking care of myself…”  
“No, I mean...how did you make it past infancy?”  
“Doctors,” He shrugged. “I had to go a few times a week when I was really little. I don’t think I played outside until four or five. I do remember staying in the hospital a few times.”

Bucky sat back, feeling a new insight growing on Steve. When they had briefly mentioned the fact that both their fathers had died, Bucky had assumed they lived similar lives. All this time he figured that Steve had also grown up knowing, at least some of, the hardships of life at an early age. He didn’t think so anymore. Sure, he had experienced a terrible loss, but he couldn’t have suffered all that much other than that. Not if his family had been able to afford such good medical care for him. He was pretty damn irritated that Steve had let him believe that they had that in common. That, for some reason, made Bucky feel very superior to him. He suddenly felt above Steve and couldn’t help the desire to gloat about that. 

“Pine View?” He questioned, referring to a neighborhood not that far from Alex’s home.  
Steve’s brow wrinkled, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Is that where you lived?” He asked, folding his arms loosely over his chest and learning into the corner of the booth. “Or was it Hill Crest? Maybe Sun Valley?” Steve didn’t answer. He just continued to watch Bucky with that cool, unchanging expression, so he went on. “Lemme guess, you went to a private school, right? Had lots a friends, most popular kid in class? Every birthday and holiday, or whatever if you celebrate something…”

“Christmas,” Steve told him with one quick nod of the head. “We celebrated Christmas. Go on.”

“Fine, for birthdays and Christmases, you got everything you ever wanted, but still complained that something wasn’t right about that one thing you wanted most, wrong color or something outrageous like that. You were destined to be on top of the world. But then you found yourself a ward of the state, huh?” Bucky found himself annoyed that he ever even considered Steve Rogers to be in the same league as him and he continued with his theory, which, Steve listened to quite contently. “Your mom mismanaged all the money your dad had worked for so there was nothing left for you when you got out of foster care, where you bounced from family to family and you learned that life weren’t all that easy after all. You went from your pretty little, tree lined, big housed towns to a noisy, crowded and dangerous neighborhood right in the city. You were sent to public school for the first time, a real eye opener, I’m sure, and since there was no money for you, that cushy ride to an ivy league school was out of the question. You actually had to _work_ , what a nightmare that must have been, and when you graduated, turned eighteen, you had no idea what to do. So you ended up joining the force, became a super cop to make up for all the time in your youth you spent under the illusion that the world was perfect.”

Steve had barely even budged during Bucky’s little speech so when he stopped talking, he leaned forward with a presumptuous little smirk on his mouth. Even when he finished Steve didn’t move or respond. It was like he was either too stunned or too embarrassed to answer. After a few seconds of silence--excluding the mumbled thanks when Marlene brought over their meals--Bucky was starting to get uncomfortable. Which wasn’t like him. He was usually the one making other people uncomfortable. Instead of answering, Steve just cut into his omelette and placed a piece in his mouth. The movements seemed oddly sensual to Bucky, as he just sat there, his French toast getting cold. 

“Are you going to eat?” Steve asked with his mouth full. “Smells good.”

Bucky did pick up his fork, but he just couldn’t find the motivation to cut into the food yet. He sighed and went to say some of the words he hated saying more than any other words in his vocabulary. 

“I’m wrong, aren’t I?”

Steve had just taken a swig of his drink and swished it around in his mouth once before swallowing. 

“Oh for one, batter,” He taunted. “Care to take another swing? I should warn you though, insult my mother again and I might not take it so kindly.”

There was a smirk on Steve’s face, but it wasn’t his normal warm and friendly one. This one was tolerant, as though saying he had patiently listened to Bucky’s assumptions, but he wouldn’t keep on doing it. One thing Bucky hadn’t intended on doing was insulting him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t being kind and he was trying to get a rise out of him by trying to hit some personal buttons, but certainly not by insulting his mother. Honestly, Bucky didn’t really remember saying anything about her, but apparently whatever he had said, no matter how little, was too much. 

Bucky looked down at his plate, unsure if he should apologize for whatever it was he said that bothered Steve or just change the subject entirely. He picked a little at the strawberries on the side of his toast.

“Where _did_ you grow up?” He settled on asking.  
“Over in Brookdale,” 

Humiliation rolled all over him when Steve answered. Brookdale was the total opposite of everything he had just described. In fact, it was worse, a lot worse actually, than even where he grew up. His eyes were closed and he let out silent sigh. 

“Would you like to tell me some more about my life?” Steve wondered, a clear hint of teasing in the back of his voice. 

Bucky figured that meant it was safe to look back up. Like with his voice, his eyes were teasing. A blush filled Bucky’s face. 

“No, no,” He said. “I’m good.”  
“Okay then,” Steve chuckled. “Where did you grow up?”  
“Uh, Hawk Grove,” He answered honestly.  
“Oh yeah? Not a bad place. Little nicer than Brookdale.”  
Bucky leaned forward with an uneasy laugh and a groan. “I don’t know why I said all that.”  
“Because you thought it,” Steve shrugged. “Dunno _why_ you thought it, but…”  
“I’m such a shit,” Bucky admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Steve gave him something of an intense, yet concerned look and then glanced at the meal he hadn’t touched much of. 

“You should eat some of that,” He advised softly. “And you’re not a shit, Bucky.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to respond to first, his advice or his reassurance. He didn’t really know what to say, so he just ate some of the food instead. 

“So, why did you become a cop?” He asked.  
Steve had an immediate answer for that. “My mom.”  
“Really? Don’t most moms discourage their kids from being cops? Something about being worried for them? But I wouldn’t really know about that.”

He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but it came out anyway. Steve flicked his eyebrows up like he was waiting for him to go on with something. But since he didn’t even mean for that to come out at all, he pretended like it hadn’t. 

“She wasn’t alive when I decided on it,” Steve explained. “She died when I was sixteen and told me that I was going to save the world right before she did.”

A strange feeling simmered inside of Bucky when Steve told him that. He wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that he didn’t like it. It felt stale and wrong and for some reason there was a longing that squeezed at his heart.

“So you decided to be a cop?” He tried to distract himself. “Not a doctor or something?”  
Steve shook his head. “I don’t like seeing people get pushed around or the strong taking advantage of the weak.”

A belt flashed in Bucky’s mind. The smell of hard liquor--scotch. The sounds of his mother crying. Bucky shook the images away. 

“You used to see that a lot?” 

His voice was quiet, and Steve must have noticed since he took a long look at him before giving his answer.

“Yeah,” He was almost done with his food, so Bucky dug into more of his. “All over the place. Before my mom got sick I got sent home from school a lot for getting into fights for trying to help other kids.”  
That almost made Bucky laugh. “I never got in trouble when I was in school.”  
“Oh no?” Steve smiled.  
“No, not really, once or twice maybe,” He shoved some food in his mouth and continued while chewing. “My teachers used to tell Mom that they loved having me in their class. Well, I mean, that was before she married Hank…”

Bucky shut up again, glancing up at Steve. There wasn’t any expectation on Steve’s face, as if he was free to continue talking or to change the subject if that’s what he wanted. Since he kept letting things slip when he started talking, Bucky figured it was safer to keep the subject on him. 

“So, you didn’t like to see people getting bullied, huh?”  
“No,” Steve wasn’t kidding around when he said that. “It makes me sick.”  
“Ironic that you would join the biggest gang around then.”  
“I know,” He actually nodded in agreement. “There’s so much corruption in the department it’s disgusting. But it’s the only place where I can make a difference. Once I was recruited to Fury’s team that was even clearer.”

This man couldn’t be real. Bucky assumed that he would have defended his brothers in arms, or whatever they called themselves around these parts when he questioned their integrity. But instead, he agreed with him. No hesitation, no excuse making, not even a lie. He just full out agreed with him. 

“How you boys doing over here?” 

Marlene had come back over, her voice and face continuing to be just as pleasant as it was when Bucky first arrived. Bucky wanted to roll his eyes at her. No one could be this perky all the damn time, especially working with the public. 

“We’re good, Marlene,” Steve answered. “How bout’ the check?”  
“No problem, Steve,” 

When Steve asked for the check, Bucky felt his heart fall and stomach twist. He hadn’t even realized that he’d pretty much eaten all of his food. Marlene wrote out their check and handed it to Steve, who hadn’t bothered to look at Bucky at all since asking for it. As if she was expecting it, Marlene just stood there as Steve reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Without asking Bucky for any money, he took out enough to pay for the bill and handed it right to Marlene.

“You know it all goes to you, Marlene,”  
“You’ll always be my favorite, Steve,” She laughed and nodded to Bucky. “See you later, hun.”

As she walked away, Steve started to slide out of the booth, taking even more money out of his wallet and leaving it on the table. 

“Well, Bucky, thanks for asking me to breakfast,” He said when he stood up.  
“You’re leaving?”  
Steve looked at him like he was confused.  
“It’s only ten thirty in the morning,” He remarked. “You didn’t want me to stay here all day did you?”  
“No, but…” Bucky wasn’t sure what he was going to do to get him to stay with him. “I have all day to myself. I don’t have to be back until dusk.”  
“Okay?” Steve rattled his head. “So what do you normally do on your free days?”  
“Uh, whatever I want.”  
“And what do you want to do today?”

Bucky couldn’t answer. He was too afraid to. There were too many things wrong with what he wanted to say. When he didn’t answer, Steve smiled.

“Do you want to spend the day with me, Bucky?” He asked. 

Not liking the fact that he assumed, well, knew what he was thinking, Bucky figured it was just better to lie. He shook his head. 

“No.” He said, a pit forming in his stomach when the word left his mouth.  
“No?”  
“That’s right,” Bucky snapped. “You don’t know me, you know. You don’t just meet someone and _know_ things about them.”

Steve sighed. “Bucky, it’s okay if you want to be friends with me. I like you. I’d like to know you more, if that’s okay. I want to be friends with you, too.”  
“You...you do? Why?”  
“I like your smile.” He admitted. “It’s beautiful. And I love your laugh. Your real one. I only heard it once and I’d love to hear it again.”

Bucky’s heart sped up. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of it. 

“Do you really mean all that?” He wondered.  
“One thing you’ll learn about me if we become friends, Bucky? I’m a horrible liar,” Steve cracked an awkward grin. “Yes, I mean all that. Now, you’re free to do whatever you want, but I would really love it if you’d spend the day with me. So, do you want to spend the day with me?”

The answer needed to be no, even though it wasn’t. Alex wouldn’t be happy about this. But...this was a free day after all. And he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with his free days. Sure, there were limits, but this wasn’t _really_ outside of those limits. Still, Alex had told him to behave himself, and Bucky would do that.

“Steve, I…” Bucky looked into Steve’s eyes and had only one answer for him. “Yes.”


	13. Oh, We're Up to Chapter Thirteen Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Thanks for stopping by! Hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave some comments if you do! Comments make me all warm and fuzzy :)

They went across to Steve’s place, the small ranch not even three full blocks away once they crossed the street. Steve could tell Bucky was nervous by the way he walked stiffly next to him. He could also tell that it bothered him that he was nervous by the way he would attempt to loosen up. It never worked though. Bucky’s arms would sway for a few moments, his hips rocking back and forth as he slipped into the same sort of strut he used when Steve first saw him. After a few steps though, he would tense up again, and lose the swagger. 

Steve’s shabby little house looked a lot more rundown than it actually was. He had purchased it two years ago, one of his proudest moments which he celebrated with Sam, Natasha, Clint, Maria, and Sharon and a whole lot of champagne--and later again privately with Sharon. Since then, he’d put a lot of work into fixing it up, taking an old, rundown house that no one wanted and making it warm and inviting and comfortable. 

“Come on in,” Steve stepped aside and let Bucky go in first. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Bucky had gone into the living room, but he was looking around, his eyes wandering from the walls to the floors to the ceilings. 

“What?” Steve wondered.   
“Your color scheme is great,” He responded. “This all goes really great together, the green, the blues and tans. I didn’t expect it. It’s really nice.”  
“Is it?” he said. “I wouldn’t know. Nat and Clint and Sharon did most of this.”

When he turned to face him, Bucky once again fixed that arrogant smolder in his expression. 

“What?” He sniggered. “Too macho to notice such things?”  
“No,” Steve shook his head with a smirk. He knew Bucky was trying to make him uncomfortable again and it was about to backfire--again. “I’m colorblind.”  
With an exasperated groan, Bucky threw his head back . “I give up.”  
“You what?” he chuckled.   
“I can’t win with you.” Bucky sighed. “I just don’t know how to act around you.”  
“I’ve got an idea,” Steve told him, stepping closer and dropping a hand on his shoulder. “How about you just be yourself?”

The way Bucky looked at him made Steve think he wasn’t sure just how to be himself, like he’d been someone else for so long that his advice didn’t make any sense. Bucky pushed his hair, which wasn’t all gelled up today, back behind his ears. 

“Um, so, what were you doing when I interrupted you?” Bucky asked. 

Steve enjoyed this about Bucky. There was a genuine curiosity about him, like he wanted to soak up everything about something if it interested him. And he liked it even more that he was something that interested him. Bucky really did want to know what he had been up to, even if right now he was only asking in order to distract himself from his discomfort. 

“Come on,” Steve took hold of the ends of Bucky’s fingers. “I’ll show you.”

Taking him into his bedroom, Steve showed him what he had been doing when he called. On the wooden easel next to the bed was a sixteen by twenty rectangular stretcher with canvas stapled over it. He had gotten the inspiration for the work the other day when visiting Clint. It wasn’t done yet, some of it was still just outlines, but that which was complete, had come out pretty well. They were all scattered about a living room, but organized at the the same time. It was something like a family portrait. 

Bucky stepped up close to it, not moving away enough for his fingers to come out of Steve’s gently hold, and put his hand up like he was going to touch it. 

“Who are all these people?” He asked. “Well, other than Detective Wilson, I mean. I already know him.”

Steve laughed and positioned himself right next to him, reshaping their hands so that they were cupped around one another. He knew it was a risky move, that Bucky might withdraw a bit if he pushed too much, but his hand felt nice and Steve couldn’t help notice that Bucky did happen to relax a little more when he took his fingers. Pointing to each person in the painting, Steve started naming them. 

“This one is Natasha,” He told him, tapping on her likeness sitting on the couch reading a book. “Don’t get on her bad side, you’ll never get off of it.” Steve slid his finger to the man sitting by Nat’s feet, rubbing one of them. “That’s Clint, one of the greatest marksmen I’ve ever seen, actually probably the best. Thinks he’s a lot funnier than he actually is.” He skipped over Sam who was leaning against the arm of the couch to the left of Natasha, and went to the person laying on the floor playing with some gadget. “Over here is Tony Stark. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. The woman standing over him who looks both annoyed and amused? That’s his wife, Pepper.”

Pepper Potts had just recently taken over as CEO of Stark Industries and hadn’t been around much lately because of it. While Tony was definitely a genius, Pepper had him beat in every way when it came to running the company. 

“You know Tony Stark?”  
“Yeah, he’s one of my closest friends,” Steve peeked over Bucky. “Don’t tell him I said that.”  
“When would I ever tell Tony Stark anything?” Bucky laughed. “Alex doesn’t like him.”

The carefree tone, and almost envious way he asked about Tony, made Steve think he didn’t have the same feelings for him as Pierce did. 

“You do, though, don’t you?”

Bucky’s face turned bright red, he tried to bury it within his shoulders like a turtle. His lips were folded in like he was doing everything he could not to burst out laughing. 

“Uh oh,” Steve teased. “What’s this all about?”  
“No, it’s nothing,” Bucky managed to get out through his clenched mouth. 

Since his hand was still in his, Steve tugged a little on his arm and got him to come just a bit closer. He pulled lightly on the bottom on Bucky’s shirt. 

“Come on, tell me,” He requested, adding a teasing smile at the end of it. “Please?”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and twisted back and forth like he was debating internally whether or not he should share whatever was making him blush and laugh.

“It’s just...I…” He started, took a glimpse at Steve and bit his lower lip. “I sorta, used to have...a crush on him.”  
That made Steve crack up. “No kidding? On Tony?”

Bucky groaned with embarrassment, flushing a bit more, and covered his face with his free hand. 

“I should have kept my mouth shut.”  
Steve pointed to the phone on the nightstand.. “I could call him, you know. Right now.” He started walking over to the nightstand, dragging Bucky with him. “I could introduce you.”  
“Steve!” Bucky squealed. “Don’t you dare!”

He sounded like he was either going to burst out laughing or burst out in tears. Steve glanced behind him to see the look on his face also fell somewhere between the two. Grinning, Steve reached out and gently squeeze Bucky’s chin. 

“Another time then,”  
“You’re a jerk.”

When Steve winked, Bucky rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Steve, who could did nothing to hide the amusement he found from this whole thing, and he finally let go of whatever he was keeping in. His laugh was infectious. It lit up his face, brought tears to his eyes, took his breath away, and shook his entire body. That was the laugh Steve wanted to hear again, the one he was sure Bucky didn’t make all that often, the one that had him leaned over, holding his sides, and barely able to breathe himself just moments later. 

“So, who…” Bucky wiped some leftover moisture from his eye as he finished calming down some, “who else is in your dumb painting?”  
“Oh it’s dumb now, is it?” He crossed his arms and raised his brows. “Maybe I won’t tell you.”  
“Not fair!” he whined. “I told you _that_! You _have_ to finish telling me who everyone is.”  
“Oh, I _have_ to?”  
“Y-e-s-s!”  
“You’re such a brat,” He chuckled. “All right, all right. I’ll _tell_ you.” Steve didn’t know if Bucky realized he’d done it, but he took hold of his hand on his own this time and gave it a squeeze as they moved back to the painting. “This serious looking man in the doorway? That’s my boss.”  
“That’s Nick Fury?”  
“Yeah, that’s right.”  
“He’s always bothering Alex.”  
Steve hesitated, but gave him an answer. “That’s his job, Bucky.”

Bucky let go of Steve’s hand and put a little bit of distance between them. He didn’t go far, just enough that there was space--enough space that Steve felt bad. Not knowing how to make up for making Bucky feel the need to back away, Steve figured it was best just to go on. 

“You see the man I’m sketching over here?” He asked, pointing to figure sitting with his legs criss-crossed on the floor next to the couch. “This is my friend Bruce, the doctor I told you about before.”

The only response he got was a nod. Steve took in a breath and pointing to the rough sketches of two figures leaning over the back of the couch. 

“These two will be Maria and Sharon,” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sharon and I used to date.”  
“Oh yeah?” Bucky perked back up. “What happened?”  
“I ended things about a year ago,” He admitted. “I was too involved with my work and it wasn’t fair to her. She tried to argue at first, said she was fine with it, but she told me I was right.”  
“Do you ever miss her?”  
“Yes,” Steve replied honestly. “All the time actually. I love her.”  
Bucky’s face wrinkled with confusion.   
“What? But if you love her, then why did you end it with her? If you love her, don’t you want to be with her?”  
“I ended things with her because she wanted, and deserved, so much more than I could give to her at the time.”  
“What about now? Would you have more time for her more now?”  
“There’s a lot of different things going on in my life,” Steve explained. “Maybe, I mean, it’s possible. But she’s with someone, a good man, too.”

The smile Bucky gave him made Steve think he was going to assume something again. 

“Makes you mad, huh? That she moved on so quick?”  
“Not at all,” That smile vanished. Replacing it was a glower. “I’m glad she’s happy.”  
“You’re not lying.” It wasn’t a question. Bucky was just pointing it out so Steve just nodded. “I don’t understand you.”

Bucky’s voice turned hard and almost angry. Afraid he was going to clam up on him, Steve took a step back and kept his tone soft. 

“Why? What’s wrong?”  
“You never do anything I expect you to do. You’re just...I don’t understand you. People aren’t just this...this _good_. People don’t just _care_ about other people. People only care about themselves.”

Steve’s heart fell. He couldn’t imagine the horrible things that Bucky must have been through for him to react so poorly to someone’s kindness. 

“There are shitty people in the world, Bucky, lots and lots of them. And I’m sorry that you’ve had to meet lots and lots of them. But,” He took a chance, a very big chance, and reached out to give his bicep an affectionate squeeze. Since Bucky didn’t move away, Steve kept his hand there. “There _are_ good people, too. I honestly believe more good than bad.”  
“Why?” Bucky asked, that anger not having completely dissolved yet.   
“The world can’t be all that bad and have someone like you in it.”

The way Bucky’s eyes glistened, like Steve had said the kindest, most touching thing in the world to him, made him want to pull him into a hug. But then Bucky lowered his chin.

“I’m not a good person, Steve.”

That only made Steve want to pull him into his arms even more. He settled for placing both hands on his shoulders and hoping that Bucky accepted the gesture. Luckily, he did. 

“Yes, you are, Bucky,” He comforted. “You _are_ a good person. No matter what anyone has done to you or told you or has lead you to believe. You’re good. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Like he’d done several times already when the conversation made him uncomfortable, when the discomfort stemmed from a serious matter, Bucky took it upon himself to discard the entire discussion. 

“So, you just couldn’t give Sharon what she wanted, huh?” He asked, that mischievous gleam in his eye. “What exactly couldn’t you give to her, Steve?”

Steve playfully narrowed his eyes at him and pursed his lips. 

“I can tell you one thing she never complained about,” He said, and pink touched Bucky’s cheeks, “But she did like to go dancing.”  
“Don’t you like to dance?”  
“Uh,” Steve shuffled his feet. “I can’t dance.”  
“Everyone can dance.”  
“I can’t,” He stated. “I have two left feet.”  
“Oh, come on,” Bucky chuckled. “You mean to tell me that you never dance?”  
Steve scratched the top of his head with a shrug and a sheepish grin. “I don’t know how,”  
“Come on then,” 

Once again, probably without thinking about it, Bucky took Steve’s hand in his, and took him back into the living room, where he fiddled with his Starkphone--which Steve would have loved to tease him about but held back--and then set it down on the coffee table. Bucky pushed the table to the side so they had more space.

“Okay, so when you take the lead,” He beckoned Steve to come forward with both his hands, “You take your partner’s left hip side or mid to upper back with your right hand,”

Bucky nodded like he expected Steve to do that. He even had his left arm lifted a bit so that Steve could place his hand down. His looked and sounded very excited about this.

“You want to teach me to lead?”  
Dropping his arm down again, Bucky rolled his eyes with a huff and a quick shake of his head. “Well, I can’t teach you to follow, can I? That’d just be silly. Now, put your hand here.”

Happy to see him so excited about something, Steve was glad to oblige and he placed his hand on Bucky’s hip and he put his on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Good,” Bucky complimented. “Now, you take my hand, and since you’re taller you’ll hold it up to about your shoulder so that both our elbows are bent upward,” Steve lifted their arms just a little and Bucky gave him an approving nod, “and we stand a half a foot away from each other, or well, I mean, you can keep it closer if you were intimate with your partner or something or…” Bucky clapped his mouth closed with an audible snap of his teeth and his face turned red again. “Anyway, uh,” He looked down at their feet. “You want to always face your partner, but you don’t want to be toe to toe,” Since Steve had his feet like that, Bucky made a point to step down on his right foot. “Otherwise that’ll happen. I like to stand feet offsetting each other,” He said, and positioned them that way, “Others prefer to have their partners feet inside of the lead’s. Either way, they need to be about a foot apart,” He used the side of his foot to push Steve’s a little further away, “So that you can move comfortably from side to side. Now don’t move,” Bucky slowly peeled away from their position, holding his palms up like it would keep Steve from going anywhere, “Stay just like that,” He hit something on his phone and slow music started playing. He popped back into place with Steve. “Ready?”

Steve was staring down at his feet, about to tell him no since he knew he was going to make a fool of himself, when his eyes lifted. Seeing the thrilled look on Bucky’s face, the excited pull on his lips, the irresistible charm in his big, wide eyes, made him hold his initial response in. He knew right then and there that he would give Bucky anything he wanted whenever he could.

“Yeah, okay,”   
“Slow dancing is pretty simple,” He explained, the smile on his face clear in his voice which was good because Steve had gone to looking down at his feet again. “You want slow, smooth movements, and to vary, move, or rotate, simply lift the foot your weight is not on and slide that foot forward, back, or to the side.” 

When Steve did none of that, Bucky shook his arms and laughed at him. Scowling a lighthearted sneer, Steve sighed.

“Well which should I do?”  
“It’s up to you! You’re the one leading!”  
“If I’m leading, I might as well toss you over my shoulder and bring you to Tony Stark’s place. He loves to dance.”

Bucky clicked his teeth and jerked his knees. 

“Steve!” he pouted, bottom lip pushed out in a sulk. “Come on!”  
“Okay, okay,” Steve gave in. “Like this?”

Of course his eyes were focused on his feet again, but Steve started to sway from side to side, attempting to lead Bucky a bit with him. He didn’t actually move his feet, he just rocked their bodies, transferring their weight back and forth. 

Bucky sniggered. “That’s a start. Now how about you try actually _moving_ us around?”

Taking in a deep breath, Steve lifted his foot to try to do as Bucky wanted. He just attempted to move them slightly to the left, and when he brought his foot down, he stepped right on Bucky’s.

“Ow!” Bucky exclaimed, tensing up in Steve’s hold.  
“Shit! I’m sorry!”  
“I’m kidding,” He laughed. “It didn’t hurt.”  
“Oh, you little...” Steve muttered under a muffled snicker, giving the hand that held Bucky’s hip a light pinch. 

The pinch made Bucky jump and let out a little squeak of laughter. Once again, he turned bright red. 

“Little ticklish, are we?” Steve teased, logging one more thing away that made Bucky laugh.   
“You just caught me off guard, that’s…”

Before he could finish, Steve poked his side which produced an even better result than squeezing his side did. 

Clearly trying to maintain a straight face, and not doing the best job of it, Bucky relented. “Okay fine, so I’m ticklish. Are you saying you’re not?”  
“I didn’t say that. But I’m thinking when it comes down to it, I’m a little stronger than you, and I really do love that laugh. So…” Steve gave Bucky the cocky grin that Bucky usually gave to others. Bucky shuddered into his shoulders, still trying to hide his grin. “But I guess for now I’ll be nice.”

Like he was relieved, Bucky blew out a breath of air through his lips. 

“Shall we continue then? You’re in desperate need of these lessons.”  
Steve laughed long and hard, letting his head roll back as he did, and nodded. “Okay then. Let’s dance.”

It took a good thirty minutes, but with Bucky’s patience, not to mention his tolerance for getting stepped on, Steve started to get the hang of leading him around the living room. There was nothing fancy about the moves he was using. Really, Steve just lead him around in a circle, swaying them back and forth as he did. At this point, Bucky finally convinced him to stop watching their feet as they moved. Almost the entire time he had to scold him for lowering his head. 

“Not bad, not bad,” Bucky complimented. “Better than when you first started. At least my feet won’t be _too_ covered in blisters.”  
“Hey, look, I warned you.”  
“You’re a quick learner though,” He remarked, and then wiggled his eyebrows. “Probably because you have such an _amazing_ teacher.”  
“All right, calm yourself,” 

Bucky folded his lips to keep from gloating further. They continued to move about the living room, Steve careful to avoid stepping on his foot again. There was something Steve wanted to ask him something, but knew he should proceed very carefully when doing so. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Sure to keep his expression cool and casual, Steve fixed a light smile on his lips. 

“So did Alex teach you to dance?”

Bucky shook his head as he continued to let Steve lead him around the room. 

“No. My mom did.” He answered as nonchalantly as answering a question about the weather. “I was taking Jenna Coleman to the fifth grade dance and I wanted to impress her so Mom taught me how to dance and I loved it. Oh and so did Jenna, by the way,” Bucky laughed. “All the girls used to like to dance with me at the dances and parties after that,”  
Steve grinned. “Famous ladies’ man, huh?”

He shrugged, going for an air of indifference, but unable to rid himself of the proud, and satisfied, smirk on his mouth. 

“I mean, I can’t help it if they all liked me,” He said. “Probably didn’t hurt that I treated them all like gold.”  
“All of them?”  
“Of course,” Bucky’s voice got a little higher when he told him that. “Mom used to tell me never to pressure a girl, even by just making her think she needed to talk to me. So if I liked a girl, even if I just liked her shoes or something, I’d just tell her that and then let her decide if she wanted to talk to me or not. And I _loved_ it when a girl asked me to dance.” He chuckled. “What a way to my heart.”  
“Really?” Steve could feel a blush creeping into his cheeks.  
“Yeah, don’t you like when someone hits on you?”  
“Honestly, I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I can never tell. It usually takes someone pointing it out to me.”  
That made Bucky laugh his adorable laugh again. “Well, I love it.”  
“You love attention? I’d never be able to tell.”  
“Hey…” He bobbed his head around. “Okay, yeah, I’m an attention whore. Can’t help it. Mom said I took after Dad that way. He used to take her out dancing, you know. Hank never did that.” His voice went low and sour. “Hank never did _anything_ like that. Mom kept dancing with me though. Whenever the scotch came out, Mom would bring me into the back room and we’d dance until…”

Bucky cut himself off, his eyes wide and full of dread like he’d abruptly realized what he started talking about. He stopped responding to Steve’s movements and the soft music suddenly sounded very loud. Although Steve wanted him to continue with his story, and attempted to encourage him with a quick nod of his head, Bucky tensed up, his jaw tight and eyes downcast. 

“You can tell me, Bucky,” He assured him. “It’s okay.”  
Bucky jerked away with a grimace and then glared at him. “How about we talk about how your mother died instead?”

The comment struck Steve hard in the gut. It was meant to, of course, he knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. He didn’t want to react poorly though. Steve understood what was going on. He couldn’t just expect Bucky to start opening up to him after one sober breakfast and a dance lesson. Trust would take some time. And if he was going to earn it, he was going to have to prove that it could be earned first. He already felt bad that he had information on Bucky that Bucky didn’t know about. Steve nodded stiffly and sat down on the couch. 

“What would you like to know about it?” he wondered. 

Bucky’s face cleared of the anger, most of it, well, some of it. He still looked rather suspicious, and very guarded. 

“What?”  
“What do you want to know about how my mom died? When? How? ...What?”

He lifted his chin like he was accepting some sort of challenge. Steve tried to prepare himself for whatever he was about to throw at him, and from the spiteful flame in Bucky’s eyes, it was sure to be painful. 

“How’d she die?”  
“Stomach cancer.”  
“How old were you?”  
“Sixteen.”  
“Did she die in a hospital?”  
“At home.”  
“Alone?”

Steve shook his head, but made no verbal answer.

“With you?”  
His throat was tight. “Yes.”  
“Was she in pain?”  
“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. “I hope not.”

Bucky didn’t ask another question right away this time. Instead, he took a moment, seemingly having lost just a big of his edge. 

“Why are you answering me?”  
“What?” Steve didn’t understand that one. “Don’t you want to know?”  
He flung his arms up in the air and started yelling. “I want you to be normal! I want you to tell me to mind my own fucking business! To tell me to shut up! To…”  
“Bucky!” Steve shouted just to be heard over him. “I get it. You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. And I’ll still answer whatever I can for you. I want you to trust me. It’s the only way I know how to prove to you that you can.”

Just standing there, Bucky’s eyes softened. His shoulders lowered and he dragged his feet along the floor as he came over to the couch. He slowly dropped down a cushion away from him and wouldn’t look at him. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked you all that.”  
“Don’t be sorry,” Steve reassured him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
“Yes, I did. Alex wouldn’t have put up with that. There’s no reason for me to act like an ass to you when you’ve been nothing but nice to me. I don’t know why I get so _mad_ at you sometimes.”

Steve wished there was some answer he could give to Bucky. He wished he could calm him, wished he could help him. 

“It’s okay.” He told him. “I’ve been known to get under people’s skin.”

Bucky let out an uneasy chuckled. He peeked over at him with the corner of his eye and shifted in his seat. An awkward silence stretched on for a few minutes. Steve didn’t want to fill it. A thought was building inside of Bucky, Steve could see it growing, and he didn’t want to interrupt it. 

“Alex doesn’t drink scotch,” He whispered. “He used to, but he stopped because...the smell of it...it reminds me…”

But he didn’t go any further than that. It was like the words got stuck in his throat and just wouldn’t come out. Steve understood enough of what he was getting at and didn’t want to see him struggle.

“Really?”

Bucky nodded. 

“He’s a good man. Alex.” Bucky let his focus linger on Steve before it drifted to his hands. “He really is.”

This was something Steve had seen before. Bucky probably wasn’t sure who was trying to convince, himself or Steve. Even though Bucky felt sure that Pierce was a good man, he wouldn’t feel the need to try to prove that to Steve. 

“Are you happy?” Steve asked.   
“Yes,” 

There was no hesitation in his response. Bucky said it very matter-of-factly. Steve didn’t fully believe it though. This was also something he’d seen before. Sure, Bucky thought he was happy, but after what he’d learned, what he’d seen, what he knew, he had no doubt that most of his happiness stemmed from the belief that he was supposed to be happy living the way he was living. He couldn’t say that to him; not yet. 

“Then that’s all that matters to me.”   
Bucky sucked in a deep breath and smirked again. “Yeah, I think we should talk about something else now.”  
“Okay.”

They ended up relaxing again in just a few minutes, once the subject was changed and Bucky eased back into his more confident self. Steve made them lunch a little while later, grilled cheese sandwiches and chips, and afterwards they ended up back on the couch watching television. They were watching a baseball game--turned out they were both fans of the same team--having beer or two, and in the middle of the seventh inning, Steve went to ask Bucky if he wanted another, when he noticed he was starting to nod off. 

“Hey,” He murmured softly. “You okay?”  
“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “I’m just…” He yawned. “I’m tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

That wasn’t surprising. He was pretty sure it was Bucky who called him at three in the morning. Steve didn’t feel the need to bring that up though. Instead, Steve shimmied a little closer and put his arm on the back of the couch so that Bucky’s head stopped bobbing back. At first, Bucky looked like he might protest, but rather than moving away, he scooched himself even closer and put his head against Steve’s shoulder. Within seconds, his breathing was steady and even. Bucky looked so peaceful. Steve smiled. 

 

A little while later, well after the game was over, and Steve had turned the television off and even slept a little himself, his head leaned up against Bucky’s, Bucky started to stir. He stretched a little, moving away from Steve like he was embarrassed he’d fallen asleep while they were together--and on him. Then his face fell and he started looking all over the place. 

“Shit,” He muttered. “Holy shit, what time is it?”  
“It’s okay,” Steve said. “It’s only 4:30. You’re not late.”  
Bucky let out a relieved sigh. Then he frowned. “I need to go. I can’t be late.”  
“All right,” He got up before Bucky did. “I’ll walk you.”  
“No!” Bucky closed his eyes and bit down on his lip. “I mean...It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”  
Steve stretched his lips with a nod. “I get it.”  
“I...I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just…”  
“Bucky, I understand,” Steve held his hand out and helped him back up. “I’m trying to arrest your lover. It’d be strange if they saw us together.”

 

Bucky winced when he said that. But rather than be annoyed with Steve for saying anything about arresting Pierce, he looked worried. 

“We can still be friends, right?”  
He nodded. “Yeah, Buck. We can still be friends.”  
“Good,” He gave him one last arrogant smirk before strutting towards the door. “Cause you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”  
Steve scoffed. “Great.” He walked him to the door and let him out. “Do me a favor, would you? Let me know you get picked up?”  
“How?”  
“You can text me.”  
“You text?”  
“Oh yeah!” Steve replied. “On those darn fangled cellular devices!”  
Bucky rolled his eyes and trotted down the front steps, giving a wave over his shoulder. “See you later, Steve.”

Steve watched Bucky walk until he could no longer see him. When he went back inside, he leaned up against the door and shook his head. 

“Oh man, Rogers,” He sighed. “What the hell are you getting yourself into?”


	14. Claim This Chapter in the Name of Fourteen

Butterflies fluttered about in Bucky’s stomach. There was a smile stretched on his face and a slight skip to his step. He had no idea how to feel about any of this. One thing he was sure of was that Steve still made no sense to him. Bucky had grown so accustomed to people behaving in one particular way around and towards him. Steve, well, Steve did the opposite of everything he expected. Whenever Bucky was waiting for him to say something or react in one way, he did the other. Sometimes this set him off into a spiral, into a sheer panic that he couldn’t control. He was used to a routine of things, so when he didn’t get it, when that routine was suddenly uprooted, Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself. Perhaps that’s why he sometimes found himself growing irritable and angry at Steve for seemingly no reason. Steve uprooted his routine of things--his routine of knowing how people behaved--by doing none of thing things he thought he would. Every time Bucky waited for the reaction he expected and didn’t get it, it almost hurt him. In fact, maybe it did hurt him. He wasn’t sure. Yet, he still felt drawn to Steve, drawn to his warmth and his smile and his good nature, even if it did hurt. Masochism wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to, but Bucky was beginning to suspect he might be a sucker for it. 

Strolling down the block, a warm breeze moving the stiff summer air, Bucky started thinking about his mom. It had been years since he’d last heard from her, let alone seen her. He tried not to think about her often, though she would randomly worm her way back into his thoughts in the unlikeliest of moments. Back there with Steve, it was easy to bring her up. The way he made him feel, so relaxed and comfortable, had Bucky sometimes spilling things that he didn’t want to be sharing with anyone. Steve also had Bucky feeling things he didn’t want to be feeling--at least things he didn’t want to admit, not out loud anyway.

Like that fact that he missed his mom. He missed her smile, he missed her laugh, he missed her hugs. He wanted so badly to talk to her again, to show her that he wasn’t the same person anymore. But Bucky knew that was impossible. He had tried for a long time to reconnect with her, even wrote her a letter everyday for an entire year without getting a response. The damage and pain he’d caused her was irreparable. 

For years, and even sometimes still, he tried to blame it all on her. It was all her fault that he was in all those bad places to begin with. It was her fault that he had been angry all the time. It was her fault he had dropped out of school. It was her fault he yelled at her all the time. It was her fault they didn’t talk. It was her fault he left. 

Whether it was her fault or not, Bucky still missed her. Once he had been established with Alex, off the streets and healthy, he tried to reach out to her. He’d seen her once, outside their old house, so he knew she still lived there, but she never replied to anything he ever sent her. Since that full year of trying, he didn’t bother sending any attempts anymore. All he did nowadays was send her flowers on her birthday and Mother’s Day. It wasn’t going to make a difference. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore and he didn’t blame her. He had made her life difficult enough. She probably didn’t want to chance him doing it to her all over again. Bucky was a screw up. He knew that, she knew that--everyone knew that. Eventually, Steve would figure that out, too. The only one who had ever taken a risk on him, and put a lot of work into fixing him, was Alex, and Bucky was still messing up.

Bucky was surprised to see the car already there for him when he walked across the street. John was seated in the driver’s seat, as usual, and wasn’t paying attention. From where he was, Bucky thought he was looking at his phone, or maybe reading something. He approached the window and slammed his palm against it, startling John enough that the man nearly tossed his phone--Bucky had been right about the phone--up in the air. 

John had reached for the gun at his hip, his entire body tensing up as he whirled around. Upon seeing it was Bucky there, he scowled. Bucky gave him an arrogant flick of his tongue, his brow lifting in the process. 

“You stupid shit,” John mumbled inside the car. “I could’ve shot you.”  
Bucky took a step back as John opened the door. “Just think of how pissed Alex would have been.”

John didn’t respond to that. Instead, he followed Bucky around the car--because Bucky didn’t feel like getting in on the driver’s side--and opened the door for him. Bucky climbed in, sliding into the middle of the seat. Just before John closed the door, he hunched over just enough that his face was in full view. 

“Where were you?” He asked.   
Bucky’s stomach pulsed. “What?”

First looking over the car, presumably in the direction Bucky had just come from, and then back in it at Bucky, John knit his eyebrows. 

“That’s a residential area,” He commented. “What the hell were you doing over there?”  
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Bucky spat back at him. “But I was taking a walk. Is that all right with you?”

With a roll of his eyes, John slammed the door shut. Before he got back in, Bucky made sure to put the partition up. He reached into his pocket to yank out his phone, opening up a blank text just as John started up the car. 

**I’m safe & sound ;)**

He texted to Steve and then anxiously wondered if he would get a reply at all. Steve had just requested that he text him when he was picked up. By the way he asked this of him, Bucky figured he wanted to know that he was okay.

It wasn’t until his phone vibrated in his tight grip that he realized his knee had been bouncing. Sucking on his bottom lip, he slid his finger across the screen of his Starkphone, ignoring the pull at his gut when he thought about Steve teasing him about Tony Stark, and read the message he got. 

**Ok  
Thanks for coming over this afternoon.  
It was nice.**

The smile that appeared on his face was big and full. Bucky made sure that he wasn’t being watched before responding. 

**thanks for having me :)  
it was fun  
next time maybe we can dance  
without you breaking my feet**

Bucky watched the screen for Steve’s reply and couldn’t help the excitement that gushed through him when it came. 

**Jerk.  
I’m around if you need anything.  
Even if it’s 3am**

Unsure if that was a comment about what happened last night, Bucky just stared at the message. At first, he felt that all too familiar feeling of anger begin to boil inside of him. But he was able to curb it. After what he put Steve through today, first with the assumptions he’d made in the diner and then with the nasty questions he’d asked about the death of his mother, Bucky owed it to him to keep calm when he was doing so much to earn his trust. Rather than answering with the first emotional response that he felt, Bucky took in a deep breath and remained calm. 

**thanks, Steve**

A few minutes went by, and when Bucky didn’t get an answer, he selected the entire conversation and deleted it.


	15. After a Quick Chapter Fourteen we Move on to Chapter Fifteen

When Bucky got back to Alex’s, he was met at the door by Brock Rumlow. An uneasy feeling knotted in his stomach when he saw him there. Nothing good ever came out of being greeted by Mr. Rumlow. This time, however, he only told him that Alex wanted him to stay in tonight, but that he’d be late. Bucky nodded and hurried away from him. 

Since he had plenty of time to kill, Bucky decided to give Joclyn--one of Alex’s employees--a call and get a nice, fully body massage. It had been a few days since his last one and he was feeling a little tense. Plus, he enjoyed Joclyn’s company. She gave him what he was used to--giggles, blushing, awkward moments on her part--and after the past few days, Bucky felt a definite need for something he was used to. 

In thirty minutes, when Joclyn arrived, Bucky was waiting for her in his room with nothing but a towel around his waist. Upon seeing him, just as he anticipated, Joclyn blushed. It wasn’t that she’d never seen him like that before, or as if he wasn’t going to be nude for the massage. What made her blush was that he usually had a robe on when she first got there. 

“Hello, Joss,” He greeted with a sensual nod of the head.   
She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Bucky,”  
“Shall we get started?” He asked, gesturing towards the inside of the room. “Wanna set the table up? Or should I just lay down on the bed?”  
Joclyn chewed the inside of her cheek, holding in a smile. “You know how it works.”

She brought in her table and set it up at the foot of the bed, patting it when she was finished. 

“Come on,” She told him. “You ready?”  
He stood up, letting the towel drop. “Are you?”  
Keeping her eyes focused on his, she struggled to maintain a straight face. “I’m here to do a job, Bucky,” She trilled a giggle. “Either you let me do it, or I leave.”  
“Okay, okay,” he relented, moseying on over and hopping up onto the table. 

He laid face down and let out a quiet, but seductive moan when Joclyn first placed his hands on him. 

“Bucky!” She scolded with a laugh. “Behave yourself.”  
“I’m sorry,” He chuckled. “I just can’t help myself.”  
“Well, do a better job of it.”

She moved her hands across his back, up his shoulders and down his neck. Her fingers pressed into his arms and down on his hands. Joclyn worked her way down his body, checking to make sure he enjoyed the pressure--and Bucky making a slightly inappropriate comment here or there--for nearly an hour. The new oils she was using smelled great and felt even better as they warmed his skin. 

Joclyn had just reached Bucky’s left foot, the first one she was about to work on, when the door swung open. It startled Bucky enough that he lifted his head to see who was there, while Joclyn kept her thumbs right on the sole of the foot she’d been rubbing. Alex was standing in the door, his face completely unreadable. 

“Alex?” He questioned.   
“You can go,” Alex said to Joclyn, motioning out the door with a jerk of his head. “Leave the table. I’ll have it sent to your place.”  
“O-ok, Mr. Pierce,” Joclyn nodded and hustled out. 

Once she was gone, Alex closed the door and stepped into the room. Bucky sat up and went to slide off the table, already leaning down for the towel even though it was not yet within his reach. 

“No, no,” Alex stopped him. “Stay just like that.”

Alex’s voice was very much like his expression--hard to read. Unable to tell what sort of mood he was in, Bucky just sat at the edge of the table and watched him, a hard lump coalescing in his throat. That lump started to disintegrate when Alex offered him a smooth grin and came forward, standing in front of, but just to the side of him. An awkward, nervous smirk pulled up on Bucky’s lips. 

“What are you doing here?” He wondered.   
Alex tilted his head. “I live here, remember?”  
“No, I mean,” Bucky tried to chuckle, but it didn’t quite come out. “I thought you were going to be late.”

Giving Bucky a shrug, he moved behind him--Bucky tried to watch him as he did, but he ended up directly in back of him--and rubbed his shoulders. 

“I expected to be,” He told him and then put his mouth right next to his ear. “But something came up and I got to come home to be with you. Isn’t that nice?”  
Bucky put his hand on one of Alex’s, turning his head so that he could see his face, and smiled. “Yes, it is.”  
Returning the grin, Alex pulled away and resumed rubbing his shoulders. “So, how was your free day, my boy?”  
“Oh, it was nice,” Bucky replied, his voice quiet.

He was suddenly feeling incredibly guilty about the entire day. Doing something he felt he needed to hide from Alex wasn’t something he should be doing at all, no matter how he tried to justify it to himself. 

Alex wrapped his arm around Bucky’s neck to pull him in closer and kissed his temple. 

“You had fun, then?” He asked, keeping his face close to him. Bucky nodded, Alex’s lips still just brushed up against his skin. “Good. What’d you do?”  
“I, uh,” Bucky felt his throat getting smaller. “Just...hung around town.”  
“What’d you buy?”  
“Buy?”  
He pulled away, lifting himself up on the table to sit adjacent to Bucky. “Sure. You always go out and spend my money on your free days. What’d you buy today? Anything good?”  
“Oh…no, I didn’t buy anything today. I just...walked around. It was nice out. I went to the beach.”

Alex caressed his face, a longing expression touching his eyes. 

“I wish I could have been there with you instead of cooped up inside all day.” He took Bucky’s hand and pecked his knuckles. “I know things have been hectic lately, James, and I’m so sorry about that.” Alex held a chunk of Bucky’s hair between his fingers, rubbing his thumb across it. “Things will go back to normal, I promise. Then you’ll soak up all my attention again, just like you love to do. I hope you’ll be patient with me, my boy. I do love you so.”

He put his hand on his cheek to bring him closer, and Bucky thought he was going to burst with guilt. 

“I, I love you, too, Alex.” He whispered. 

With the hand that he had pressed against his cheek, he gave him a little tap and then slid off the table. 

“Why don’t you wash up?” He suggested. “I’ll have some dinner made for us. We can eat home tonight. Spend the evening together like we used to, how does that sound?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes not really seeing the man in front of him. Getting one last kiss from him, Bucky knew Alex was leaving the room. He was trembling, his limbs shaking so much he was sure the table was must have been vibrating underneath him. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I saw Steve Rogers today,” He blurted. 

At the door, hand on the knob, Alex paused. He stood there for an agonizingly long few minutes, not saying a word, not moving, it didn’t even look like he was breathing. Bucky just sat there staring at his back, his stomach hurting, his head spinning, his heart pounding. Finally, he could see Alex suck in a deep breath. His entire body expanded and he turned around to glare at him. As soon as his gaze was fixed on him, Bucky could no longer hold his eyes. Overwhelmed by unimaginable remorse, his head dropped.

“You what?” Alex questioned, very pointedly. “What did you do?”

Bucky tried to lift his eyes, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He could barely get his voice above a whisper. 

“I...I was with Steve Rogers.”  
“Elaborate, James,” He demanded. “You happened across him like you did earlier in the week? You bumped into him on the beach?”  
He shook his head, a very slow move that Bucky could hardly feel. “I called him.”  
“You called him?”  
Bucky nodded. “I asked him to meet me.”  
“So…” Alex strolled forward, his lips set in a hard line. “You lied to me?”  
“Alex, I…”  
“That’s what you were doing in the residential area, wasn’t it?” He asked. Bucky assumed John had told him that. “You were never at the beach at all, were you?”  
“I didn’t plan on seeing him, Alex, I…”  
“Why should I believe you?” He growled. “Why should I ever believe anything you say? You’re a liar. You’re a filthy, little liar. You always have been. People don’t change, do they?”  
“I did change, Alex! I swear! I’m not that person anymore! You know I’m not!”  
“Oh no?” Alex hummed. “What person, James? Do you remember that person? Do remember him well?”

 

_Bucky stood on the corner, leaning up against the side of the pawn shop. He sucked on the end of the cigarette he’d found in the street, anxious to put something in his body to take the edge away. The sun was already down, just dipped below the horizon, and a grey tinge casted an eerie glow across the city streets. It made it almost cold--colder than it usually was in January. Bucky pulled his hoodie tighter around him. It was ripped at the right elbow, but it would have to do._

_His fingers twitched, his tongue tracing the corners of his lips. He needed a fix. It had been almost a full day since his last and he was getting desperate. His dealer wasn’t around. He couldn’t feel like this anymore. It hurt, all the pain and anguish that wrapped around him. He needed to make it disappear. There was only one way to do that. Not that it mattered. Bucky had no money anyway. He needed to get some, and fast. Stomach growling, he tried to recall when he last ate something. The memory escaped him at the moment. When some people passed him, Bucky held his hand out in the hopes that someone might have enough heart to be charitable. It happened from time to time. Someone would see a teenager on the street and hand him a dollar or two. Not that a couple of dollars would be enough to get him what he needed. He had expensive tastes. He wouldn’t buckle and get that cheap shit. It wasn’t so bad, that’s what he told himself, if he just kept kept it to his drug of choice. But if he slipped and stooped to something harder he’d just be another junkie. This way he...well shit, he didn’t even know what he was trying to justify anymore._

_He just knew needed to score. And he was hungry, too, but he needed to score first. Well, he needed money first, this way he could score, and then he could get some food. The cigarette was at the filter so the flicked it to the curb. That’s when he noticed the town car pull over across the street. It was an expensive looking vehicle--shiny rims, tinted windows, glossy paint, and a large, muscular man with an almost rectangular build got out of the driver’s side. He came towards the pawn shop, paying no attention to Bucky at all, which was good, because it gave Bucky the chance to notice the silhouette through the back windows. That person was being driven around in a limo-like car. That person had money._

_Licking his lips, Bucky peered over his shoulders to see that the man who had gotten out of the car was going into the back with the pawn shop’s owner. Probably taking care of some sort of business. Eyes focused on his reflection, Bucky ran his fingers through his hair to fix it up. He licked his hands and rubbed them against his face to get the dirt off of it. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered when they started to get so droopy. There was no time to ponder that now. No telling how much time he had to pull this off. First checking to make sure the other man was still in the back, Bucky made his way over to the car._

_Though he could still tell there was someone in there, the tints were dark enough that even close up he couldn’t really see them. Man or woman, it didn’t matter who was in there. Bucky would do whatever he needed to get the money he required to get his drugs._

_He knocked on the window. The person inside shifted. Bucky could see them turn slightly, enough that they were looking at him. He gave them a smile, that arrogant smirk that hadn’t failed him yet, and a wink. Still, the window stayed up._

_“Hey,” Bucky raised his voice. “Want some company back there?”_

_Inside, the person didn’t move, like they were staring at Bucky. That went on for a few moments. Then, the window cracked open._

_It wasn’t enough for him to see inside, but it was enough to feel the warmth that came from within it. For just a second, Bucky desired that more than his drugs. But it was a fleeting desire and the need for drugs overpowered it._

_“How bout it?” He asked._

_Bucky was about to put his hand over the top of the window, like it would somehow give him the chance to peer into the car, when someone tore him away from it and flung him to the ground._

_“What the hell…?” Bucky grumbled from in the street.  
“Get the fuck outta here, you punk,” _

_It was the man from the driver’s seat. Bucky gave him an insolent sneer and jerked his chin up._   
_“Calm down,” He muttered. “I wasn’t doing anything.”_

_The man glared down at him like Bucky was vermin and then yanked him back up, holding him by his shirt and slamming him up against the car. It wasn’t that Bucky couldn’t fight back, well, maybe not well against a man like this, but he wasn’t going to bother. There was something more important to be done. So when the man brought his arm back, readying to haul off and bash his fist into his face, Bucky did nothing other than brace himself for the hit._

_Bucky toppled over to the ground again, hitting the concrete hard enough to scrape his palms. The punch felt like a brick to his face, splitting his lip and already making his cheek swell._

_“That’s enough, Rumlow.”_

_First spitting the blood from his mouth, Bucky lifted his face to see the person in the back of the car. He was an attractive man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His skin had a slight tan to it, like he went tanning because of the winter months, and his eyes--which bore right into Bucky--were steel grey. He wore his dirty blonde hair slicked and parted to the side. It looked like he was wearing a suit. Even if he wasn’t in a suit, Bucky could see he was very clean cut, but would still look just as good in a pair of dirty jeans and a white t-shirt, hair disheveled and skin sweaty._

_“Get outta here, you little shit,” Rumlow spat._

_Bucky turned his attention back on him and gave him a quick salute before picking himself back up and leaving. Once he was around the block, taking one quick check over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed, he pulled out the wallet he’d stolen off that Rumlow guy._

_He opened it up to see if taking that ridiculous blow to the face was worth it. When he saw the amount of cash in the wallet, Bucky’s jaw dropped. He even stopped mid-step. Inside were lots and lots of hundred dollar bills._

_“Holy shit,” Bucky laughed._

_Spinning around on his heels, Bucky hurried off to find his dealer._

 

_There had been a club._   
_There had been…_

_Loud music. Girls. Boys. Girls and boys. Drugs. Lots of drugs. Drinks. Lots of drinks. Food. Drinks. More drugs._

_Lights. Flashing lights overhead. Darkness. Maybe some sleep. Maybe not. Sex. Fights. Hopeless. Drugs. Food. Kissing. Dancing. More loud music. Running. Showering. Drinks. Sadness. Drugs._

_Two girls; one in front of him, one behind him. Dancing? Sex? Both? A boy. Kissing. Groaning. Lines off his stomach. Depression. Drugs. Drinks. Food._

_Laughing. Smoking. Loneliness. Drugs. Beds. Lots of beds. Warmth. Cold. Food. Dancing. Women. Men. Sex. Drinking. Food. Drugs._

_Euphoria. Low.  
On top of the world. Drop.  
King. Usurp.  
God. Crash.  
Burn._

_Bucky shivered and pulled the battered cardboard box up to his shoulder. Rain dripped down from the ugly, grey skies. Drops of water snuck through the boards of the bench Bucky was trying to sleep under, slowly saturating him with cold, wet moisture. It had been three, no four, no three days since he’d taken Brock Rumlow’s wallet. All that was left in it was his driver’s license and a few credit cards that were cancelled already--Bucky had tried using them the first day he had it. It worked the first time, but not the second._

_His head was pounding, his neck was stiff, his back was sore, his stomach ached. Bucky rubbed at his nose. The insides of his nostrils burned. His brain burned more. He’d very willingly snort some more to make the pain stop. But his money was all spent. With a groan, he rolled over to his side. The past few days had been spent in good company--people he knew from around the city, strangers he’d just met. He remembered rolling into the first club feeling like a king, and being greeted as such. It wasn’t all that unusual. When he was high, it’s how he felt--like a king. And when he felt like a king, he was loved by everyone. A few people always greeted him when he was around, waltzing in to a place like he would conquer it before he left._

_“Bucky!” They shouted, arms wrapping around him and lips seeking his cheeks._

_When he was high, he could rule the world. Nothing else mattered. Not his mother. Not Hank. Not the streets. Nothing. Bucky ruled the world._

_But then came the crash._

_The world once again stepped all over him. He could hear his mother crying. He could feel Hank’s belt. He could smell the scotch. He could hear his own thoughts. And Bucky couldn’t take it for long._

_A few people were walking across the boardwalk. He could their feet sloshing through puddles. As badly as he wanted to get himself some more drugs to ease this pain, Bucky’s body throbbed enough that he was having trouble just moving. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get money this time._

_There were some voices nearby, some people talking, but Bucky didn’t bother to look to see. It didn’t concern him anyway. At least that’s what he thought until someone snatched him by the ankle and dragged him out from under the bench._

_On the flat of his back, Bucky stared up at the dark sky, too disoriented to tell who had pulled him out. Whoever it was leaned over him, momentarily cutting him off from the rain. Without even a word, whoever it was kicked him so hard in the side that Bucky was sure his rib broke. Agony rippled across his side and Bucky curled up, moaning and coughing._

_“Not too rough,” He heard someone say. “I still want to speak with him when you’re through.”_

_A shock ran through Bucky. He recognized that voice. It was the man from the back of the car--the man with Rumlow. Lifting his head weakly, Bucky saw that Rumlow was standing over him, his jaw tight and face livid. Still trembling, Bucky reached into his back pocket and had some trouble, but managed to pull the wallet out. Hand quivering, he extended his arm to give it back to him. Rumlow snatched it away so roughly that it startled Bucky._

_He tried to move so he could get away from him, knowing full well this would not be pretty when he opened it. But it was no use._

_“Fuck me,” Rumlow snarled. “There was over six grand in here. Where is it all?”_

_His heavy hand slapped down on Bucky’s back to hurl him up to his feet. Bucky wobbled a bit. The only reason he didn’t fall back over was because of Rumlow’s grip on him._

_“I...I’ll get you your money back.”  
“As if you have a choice, you shit.”_

_Rumlow slammed his fist into Bucky’s face again. Amazingly, horrifyingly, that hit was even worse than the first one he took, and Bucky’s head snapped back. Blood shot out of his nose and dripped down his chin._

_“That’s enough, Rumlow.” The other man said “Let’s go.”_

_Though he’d been told to stop, Rumlow grabbed onto Bucky’s shirt with his other hand and lifted him very close to his face. Dazed and afraid, Bucky squeezed his eyes closed as he waited to be struck again. But instead of being hit, Rumlow dragged him away and to the car parked right off the nearest ramp of the Pier. The trunk opened._

_“What...what the hell are you doing?” Bucky yelled and made an attempt to fight back. “Don’t put me in there! Please don’t put me in there!”_

_It was futile though and Rumlow dropped Bucky into the trunk, slamming the top down and sealing him in darkness. The black, small trunk was suffocating him already. Terror descended upon Bucky, covering him with panic and sweat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear. He screamed and yelled and slammed his fists and feet into anything he could. There was no telling how long or far they drove, but when he felt the car turn off, Bucky fell silent. Fear raced through him. He was sure he was going to die. If not by them, by being trapped in there. His hands groped the darkness for some sort of weapon. He came up empty handed. There was nothing in the trunk save for him._

_When the top opened again, Bucky had no time to do anything. A pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him out. They were no longer outside, but the air that filled his lungs was so much better than being in that trunk, in that horrible, terrifying small and enclosed space. Now they were in a garage and Rumlow pulled him by the back of the shirt to the door that Bucky assumed lead to a house. He was right._

_Rumlow took him to a kitchen. There were no lights on, but Bucky could tell there was someone else in there with them. Bucky was shoved into a seat at the table. Still trying to calm down--he was out of the trunk, not suffocating, not being crushed--Bucky sucked in a few deep breaths until his limbs stopped trembling. Someone, Rumlow presumably, turned the lights on. The man from the car was seated across from him._

_“How’s your head?” He asked.  
Bucky glanced around. “S’okay.”  
“What’s your name?”  
“Bucky.”  
“What’s that short for?”  
“James.”  
The man gave him a sideward glance. “Bucky is short for James?”  
Bucky shook his head. “No, it’s short for Buchanan. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But everyone calls me Bucky.”  
“Ah. Well, Bucky, my name is Alexander Pierce, you can call me Alex, and I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”  
“Alexander Pierce?”  
He nodded. “Have you heard of me?”  
“Yeah, a little. Just some stuff on the streets.”  
“Well, then you’ll know I have the means to back up what I have to offer you.”  
Bucky shifted in the chair. “And what is it that you want to offer me?”  
“A chance to get off the streets. To live like a king. To have people at your beck and call. To get pretty much anything you want, whenever you want. How does that sound?”_

_Bucky just stared at him. Sure he had heard him wrong, or his offer was some sort of joke, he rolled his eyes with a scoff._

_“Oh yeah, okay, sure,” He laughed without any humor. “Where’s my crown?”_

_Alex reached into his side pocket to pull something out. For just one instant, Bucky thought he was going to actually take out a crown. Instead, he held out a baggie full of white powder. Bucky’s fingers automatically pinched his nostrils, like the powder was already going inside of them. He was salivating at the thought of it._

_“You want this?” Alex asked.  
“Yes.”  
“Then you’ll sit there quietly, listen to what I have to say, answer when I ask you a question, and not be a fucking smartass, got it?”_

_Bucky nodded vigorously, eyes on the bag, and waited for Alex to go on with what he had to say._

_“I need someone to be mine,” He said. “And after the other day, I was, well...rather impressed by you.”  
Caught off guard by his words, Bucky’s eyes moved from the bag to Alex. “Impressed? By **me**?”  
Alex smiled. “I take it you don’t get complimented too often?”  
He shook his head. “No. Not really.”  
“Well, stay with me, and that’ll change.”  
“Stay with you?”  
“That’s right. I need someone to be my boy. What that means is someone to look good by my side, a pretty face to smile for the people, a nice body for the parties to gawk at but don’t get to touch. Someone to keep me…” Alex made sure to look directly into Bucky’s eyes. “Company.”_

_He understood that part and why he chose to use the line. It’s what Bucky had offered him the other day._

_“And you want that person to be me?”  
Alex shrugged. “If you’re not up to it…”  
“I didn’t say that.”_

_Bucky looked around. The kitchen alone was bigger than the first floor of the house he grew up in. He could imagine how much nicer the rest of the place got._

_“Do you like boys, James?” Alex then asked.  
“I’m not a…” But Bucky couldn’t say the rest of it. _

_The word got stuck in his mouth and wouldn’t come out. He’d been called it before and it stung every time. Alex shook his head and started to rise out of the chair._

_“I have no use for someone like you then,” He huffed. “I don’t need someone who pretends. I want something real…”_   
_“No, please...wait…” Bucky stopped him, leaning forward with his hand out. “I…” He looked down at his lap. “I...I like girls. Really, I do. And...I like boys, too. But...please, don’t tell Hank. He’ll…”_   
_“Greedy little fucker, aren’t you?” Alex interrupted. Bucky glanced up to see him smiling at him. “Girls **and** boys. Who’s Hank?”_   
_“No one.”  
“Don’t lie to me.”  
Bucky didn’t hesitate this time. “He’s my step-father.”  
“How old are you, Bucky?”  
“Sixteen.”  
Alex looked disappointed. “Ah, no, that’s a problem.”  
“Why?”  
“Bucky, you’re a child. What kind of man would I be to put this on a child? You’re only sixteen. What I’m looking for comes with certain...expectations…”_   
_“You mean sex,” Bucky blurted. “I’ve had sex with men your age before. It’s no…”  
“Big deal? No big deal? Yes, Bucky, it is a very big deal. I’m sorry, but this won’t do. Thank you for your time, but I think it’s best if…”  
“No! No, wait!” Bucky first looked back to wherever Rumlow was behind him and then to Alex. “I...I can do other things. We…I’ll work for you first. I can prove to you that I’m worth it.”  
“You really think you’re worth my time?” Alex asked. “You’re a sixteen year old, living on the streets, selling his body for drugs, and you think that you’re worth **my** time and effort?”_

_Bucky felt his heart fall. Just a moment ago this man had offered him the world. It dangled right in front of him and he had blown it with just a few words._

_“No,” He shook his head. “I’m not.”_

_The chair Alex was in creaked a little when he sat back in it. He crossed his arms and took a long, hard look at Bucky._

_“You do have a pretty face though. Maybe **that’s** worth something. Okay, Bucky, I might be a fool for this, but I think I’ll give you a chance. Prove to me that you’re worth it and maybe I’ll keep you.” _

_Elation filled Bucky like a balloon. He didn’t know what to say, so thank you didn’t even come out. Not even when Alex tossed the baggie over to him. At that point, any other thought escaped him anyway. Bucky was much too concerned with snorting the powder. Within moments, he had some poured out and cut into three thin lines with the credit card Alex slid over to him. He fished out a piece of paper from his pocket and rolled it up. Leaned over the table, about the suck up the first line, Bucky almost screamed when Alex swiped his hand across the powder, wiping it all away._

_“No!” Bucky yelped, panic gripping his entire body. “What...What are you doing?!”  
“First things first,” Alex growled. “If you’re going to stay with me, you’re going to work **this**_ shit out of your system.” 

_Bucky watched in horror as Rumlow dumped the rest into the sink and turned the water on._

“I remember, Alex,” Bucky whimpered. “I know who I used to be.”  
“Are you sure?” He questioned. “You remember the crying? The begging? The pleading?”  
Bucky held in the tears as he nodded. “Yes.”  
“Then, I’m sure you remember that it was _me_ who helped you destroy that person.”  
“I do, Alex. And I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you, I just…”  
“You didn’t mean to _lie_? You didn’t mean to? Was it an accident?”  
“I just...I didn’t think you’d understand.”

Alex opened his mouth, but said nothing. His eyes closed and he sighed like he was disappointed.   
“After everything we’ve been through, you didn’t think I would understand what, James?”  
“I like him, Alex. Steve I mean. I just wanted a friend.”

When Alex’s eyes opened, Bucky could have sworn he saw tears in them. He’d never seen Alex cry before and the thought made him sick to his stomach. 

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?”  
“No! No, that’s not what I mean, Alex! I love you!”  
“I can see that me not being good enough for you now. I mean, Steve Rogers is your age and I’m getting up there in the years, so why not just throw me away for a younger model.”  
Bucky covered his mouth and shook his head. “That’s not it, Alex. You have other friends, don’t you?” He kept his voice as soft as possible. “I just thought I could have someone to be friends with while you’re really busy like this.”  
“Really?” Alex wondered, putting his hand on the side of Bucky’s face. “That’s really it? Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you to someone.”

Resting the edge of his head on Alex’s shoulder, Bucky wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“I just wanted to be friends with him. Honest. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I won’t see him anymore. I promise.”

That promise felt like lead in Buckys stomach. It hurt so much to make. He wasn’t sure if it was worse to disappoint Alex or to think about not seeing Steve anymore. 

“No, Bucky,” Alex eased him back up. “You go ahead and be friends with Steve Rogers. If it makes you happy, then you have my permission.”

He was careful not to get too hopeful.

“R-really?”  
“Who are you, Bucky?”  
“I’m your boy.”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”  
“To be happy.”  
“Okay then.”  
Bucky couldn’t believe what he was telling him. “So, I can really be friends with Steve? It’s okay?”  
“Sure.” Alex pinched his nose. “Just no more lying to me. And who knows, perhaps, this might be a good opportunity for Steve Rogers to learn a lot more about me. You can show him I’m not such a bad guy. Now, wash up, and we’ll go have that dinner together, okay?”

 

Bucky nodded and went to do as he was told, feeling as though he was walking on air. Everything was falling into place. Steve wanted to be friends, Alex was okay with them being friends--Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 

 

They ate their dinner together--cooked to perfection lamb and a shared bottle of delicious Pinot Noir--down in the kitchen, the very same where Bucky agreed to be Alex’s boy. For several hours, the two of them just sat there, talking. Alex let Bucky talk about what he wanted, so he talked about art and dancing. 

“I always loved to watch you dance,” Alex told him. “The way your body moves so naturally on the dance floor is quite intoxicating.”

Bucky blushed. While he and Alex had never really been out dancing the way he was showing Steve earlier today, they had gone out to many night clubs over the years to make appearances or for Alex to do business. 

“I like dancing,” He murmured. “It’s fun.”  
“I know you like it,” Alex chuckled. “Speaking of fun, there’s something I just can’t shake. You said you had fun today, right?”

A breath caught in Bucky’s throat. 

“Yes.”  
“So, what did you do with Steve Rogers that was so much fun?”  
“Oh...nothing really, we just ate breakfast and then hung around, really.”

Pouring the last bit of wine into his glass, Alex nodded with a purse of his lips. He brought the glass to his mouth and sipped. 

“I...Bucky, I don’t know if I can believe you.”  
Bucky’s stomach turned. “You can, Alex. I swear.”  
“I want to, but,” He put his glass down, his eyes on the table for a moment before rising to look up at Bucky, “you have to admit you’ve put me in an awkward position. You want me to believe you, yet you lied to me. And while I’m allowing you to be friends with Steve Rogers...I’m afraid there needs to be _consequences_ for your actions today.”

Dizziness descended upon him. Bucky held onto the table to keep from wobbling. Consequences from Alex ranged from no phone use to...much worse. 

“I’m sorry, Alex.”  
“I know you are, but what is ‘sorry’?”  
Bucky sighed. “Sorry is just a word.”  
“That’s right. If you insist on being taught, then I’m afraid I must continue on providing the lessons. Your privileges are being revoked for the rest of the week.”

Folding his lips in, Bucky did what he could to hold in a sulk and a pout, and simply nodded. 

“Which ones?”

Alex looked at him like the answer to his question should be obvious. His brain played with ideas, but none came to him. Finally, Alex responded.   
“All of them, of course.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he nearly jumped out of his seat in protest. “ _All_ of them?!”  
“That’s right. Not only did you go behind my back, you then lied to me about it. You’ll do good with a reminder that everything you have, you have because of me. So, for the next few days, no phone, no computer, no television, no music, no beds, no blankets, no chairs, no couches, no books, no lights after dark--You’ll accompany me all day, to be seen, not heard, you’ll sit if I tell you you can and on something only if I say you can, you’ll eat when I decide you should eat, you’ll wash up and you’ll sleep. That’s it. Understand?”

Sitting with his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table, Bucky managed to nod.   
“Yes, Alex.”  
“Go get ready for bed, Bucky.” He instructed. “You’ll be sleeping on the floor outside of my room tonight.”

Bucky pushed away from the table, a glower on his face. Not wanting to risk upsetting Alex any more, he hurried to wash up and then curled up outside his door, right where everyone would see him in the morning. He would hate this, hate every single minute, every second, every moment of it, but he deserved it. Bucky knew that. He deserved every bit of it. 

 

And yet, there was one tiny part of him, a miniscule, almost silent voice, that wondered how Steve would feel about this.


	16. I Forget What Chapter I'm Up To. 16 (?)

Thunder cracked. It boomed over the station so hard that a few alarms in the parking lot went off. The rain came just a few moments later, pattering down on the roof like hundreds of pebbles were being dropped on it. All the lights in the station were on, providing an artificial source of illumination that did little to brighten anyone’s moods. 

Steve hunched over his desk, running over old files he had on Alexander Pierce, Killian Aldrich and Georges Batroc. Batroc continued to maintain that the women they’d rescued had actually been meant for Pierce, that he’d been set up. Something about that made sense to Steve. Pierce had sent them after Bartoc, that much he was sure of. He wouldn’t have dropped his name if he didn’t want to get rid of him. Not that Batroc was an innocent man by any means. Him being off the streets was a win. But if there was some way to use Batroc to get Pierce, it would be even better. 

Another manilla folder landed on his desk top, making Steve jerk back up. At the side of the desk was Sharon. She smiled down at him. 

“Here’s the rest of the paperwork on Batroc you wanted to see,” She said. “Maria and I just finished it all up today.”  
“Thanks, Sharon,” His eyes scanned all the papers that were in front of him. “Did you get anything else out of him?”  
“Just more of the same,” She replied. “Says Pierce set him up, which I’m sure he did, but we have no way to prove it.”  
“Not yet anyway.” 

Steve nodded and absently looked at his phone even though it made no indication that he received any call or message. 

“He hasn’t called yet, huh?”  
Startled by her question, Steve glanced up at her.   
“What?”  
“He hasn’t called.”  
“Who?”  
“Whoever you’re waiting for to call you.”  
“How did you…”

Sharon chuckled and leaned back against the side of his desk. She shook her head like she was amused. 

“You keep checking your phone,” She shrugged and then went on. “That, and then the other night, when you came to visit Clint, you smelled like cologne. You don’t wear cologne.”

When he just stared at her, her grin became more pronounced. With a slight chuckled, Steve lowered and shook his head. 

“No, he hasn’t called.”  
“Is he cute?”  
“God broke the mold with this one,” He laughed. “He’s got a smile to die for and a laugh to kill for and…” Steve flicked his eyes back up to Sharon, then buried his face in his hands, snickering as his did. “Oh, Sharon, I’m in so much trouble.”  
Sharon laughed along with him and ran her hand across his back. “Look at you, all smitten. It’s cute.”

If only she understood the kind of trouble he was talking about. Not that he wasn’t also referring to the trouble she thought--Steve was wrapped up in all that sort of trouble as well--but the fact that Bucky and Pierce were, well, Bucky and Pierce made this a lot more difficult. 

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Steve Rogers, give me a break. How many times have I come to you for relationship advice? Have you ever turned me down?”  
“Well...you’re my best girl.” He smirked. “I’ll always be there for you.”  
“All right then. So how long has it been since you talked to him?”

Five days. It had been five, long days since Steve had last heard from Bucky, and, even if this was a normal situation, the infatuation he was already experiencing would have made these days torturous. As it was, this was not a normal situation, and, on top of the tormenting infatuation, Steve was worried. It wasn’t like he could just get in touch with Bucky to make sure that he was okay. And if something happened to him, Steve wasn’t sure if he would ever even find out. 

“Uh, it’s been about five days.”  
“Oh, that’s not so bad,” She commented. “If you don’t hear from him tonight, give him a call tomorrow.”  
Gaze set straight ahead, Steve twisted his lips and just nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Obviously, Sharon wasn’t fooled. She folded her arms over her chest. 

“Okay, what’s that about?”  
“No, it’s nothing,” He lied, his lips turning down. 

Sharon gave him the once over before pushing away from the desk and shook her head as she walked away. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Rogers.”

Without another word, she went back to her own desk and started chatting with Maria. Before Steve got the chance to process what had just happened, Nick Fury was calling him. 

“Hey, Rogers!” He shouted from inside his office. “Come in here.”

Steve pulled his attention away from Sharon and looked towards the door of Fury’s office before heaving up and trudging over to see him. He stood in the entrance. 

“What’s going on?” He asked.  
Nick was flipping through some paper work and hadn’t looked up at him yet. “I could say the same to you.”  
“To me? What? I didn’t do…”  
“Why are you still going through the Batroc files? We got ‘im, Rogers. Let it go.”  
Steve rattled his head. “What? Nick, if we can get more on Pierce through him, then isn’t it worth…”  
“Rogers, just let things cool off,” He instructed. “All those girls? A lot of them were undocumented citizens. They’ve been…” His voice trailed off and then lowered when he resumed. “Well taken care of.”

There was no need for Steve to ask him to elaborate. Natasha had already told him about the women they found. She, Sharon, and Maria had gone to great lengths to ensure their very quick citizenship, had set up places of residency in a pretty nice area, and placed them in secure jobs. 

“But what does that have to do with…”  
“Leave it alone, Rogers,” Nick repeated. “I’ve been going through your files. Noticed you haven’t taken a vacation in five years.”  
“Is that a problem?”  
“Nope, but I’d say it’s about time you took some. With Barton in the hospital, Romanoff and Wilson can partner up for awhile,” He paused and made a face at something he saw beyond the office. Steve followed his gaze and saw Sam sitting on Natasha’s desk, smiling down at her. “Doesn’t look like they’ll need much convincing anyway.”

That was much more of a demand than it was a request. Steve just stared at him, confused and flabbergasted. None of this made sense. 

“Nick...this...why? You can’t just expect me to go home and sit around when we have this…”  
“No, that’s exactly what I expect you to do. Go home, Rogers. Take some time off.” Nick stood up and slammed his hand down on the desk. “Just clear your mind. Maybe you’ll come back in a few weeks with some new...perspective.”

The conversation was over. Giving Steve no chance to respond, Nick picked up his hand and glided out of the office. For a moment, Steve just stared at the empty doorway. When he looked back into the office, he glanced down at the desk. On it, was a small electronic device, something that looked like a USB stick, but wasn’t. Steve was sure it wasn’t there when he first came in. Suddenly, Fury’s demand for him to take vacation didn’t seem so confusing. Something had happened. Something that made Fury need to get rid of him for a while. Whether it was political or a threat, there was a reason for this. But he wasn’t being sent off empty handed. That he was certain of. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he swiped the thing off the desk and shoved it in his pocket. 

“Going on vacation, Rogers?” Natasha asked as he got his keys out of his desk. “Gonna do something fun?”  
“If by fun you mean alphabetizing my books and DVDs and going through weeks of recycling, then yeah, I’m gonna have a blast.”

The look she gave him made Steve think she already knew damn well that he wasn’t planning on just relaxing during this so-called vacation. 

“We’ll still see you at the hospital, right?” Sam wondered. “You’re gonna stop by?”  
“Course, I am,” he assured them and waved over his shoulder, now anxious to get out of there. The thing in his pocket, though weighing next to nothing, felt heavy sitting in there. “I’ll catch you all later.”

There was only one person Steve could go to in order to get whatever was on this computer thing. He hurried out into the rain, finally slowing to the misty drizzle, when he heard someone sloshing behind him. 

“Steve!” Sam called. 

Just reaching his car, Steve spun around to see him jogging over, holding a leather jacket over his head to avoid getting wet. 

“What’s up, Sam?”  
“What’s going on with you?” He asked.   
“What are you talking about? Fury thought it’d be good…”  
“Not what I’m talking about,” Sam interrupted. “I mean with whatever else is going on. You’ve been really distracted, all week. Something’s on your mind and this Pierce thing has been eating at you. Now you’re running outta here like your life depends on it.”

Steve felt bad for having to keep all this from anyone, Sam especially. But he couldn’t get him involved, not if he could help it. 

“Look, Sam, I know you mean well, and all, but…”  
“Hey, man, you know, if you’re not ready or whatever, I get that,” He assured him. “So, whenever whatever this is gets out of hand,” Sam said it like he already knew it would, “I’m just reminding you of your promise.”  
“My promise?”  
“Yeah, the one you made to me last week,” He gave him a light punch in the arm. “You promised you’d come to me, remember?”  
A lighthearted laugh made Steve’s chest rumble and he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, Sam. I remember. And yes, I promise. When I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”  
“Damn right,” Sam chuckled. “Now get out of here and enjoy your…” He made an expression very similar to the one Natasha made, “vacation.”

Sam twirled around, some water slipping off the end of his jacket and hitting Steve in the face, and trotted back inside. Once he was sure no one else was coming out to have any chats with him, Steve got into his car and hurried to see Tony Stark.

***

“Mr. Stark, Detective Rogers is here to see you,” Jarvis announced as he lead Steve into a den of some sort.

Unlike the living room, the room didn’t have a wall of windows or a decline where all the furniture was. Otherwise, it was pretty much the same, maybe just a little smaller. 

“Jarvis, I told you not to interrupt us!” Tony’s voice came out holding just the slightest of whines.   
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jarvis said. “But the detective was quite insistent.”

As Jarvis walked just a little further into the room, Steve could see that Tony wasn’t alone. And when he was spotted, Pepper sprung up from her spot on the couch and came towards him with her arms out. 

“Steve!” She greeted with a huge smile. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”  
“Hi, Pepper,” He grinned back and pulled her in for a hug. “How’ve you been? Traveling the world I hear?”  
“Oh, boy, you have no idea. I had to do damage control with a company that this one over here,” She jerked her head towards Tony, “just had to sleep with the CEO’s daughter a few years ago. You can imagine how well that went over.”  
“That sounds...awful,” He admitted with a laugh.   
“Hey, come on now!” Tony complained as he headed over to them. “First you ruin our moment and then you have to insult me?”  
“Yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re wounded.”

Pepper looped her arm with Steve’s and lead him further into the room towards the couches.

“Do you want to stay for supper, Steve?”  
“Oh, thanks, Pepper, but I just need to ask Tony for help with something and get going.”  
“Ah, I get it,” Pepper pressed her cheek against his and kissed the air. “I’ll leave you two alone. Good to see you, Steve. Come by and visit more often!”

She was on her way out, and rubbed her hand up Tony’s bicep when she was by him. Pausing for a moment, she whispered something into his ear, something that made his eyes grow a little wide, and his mouth pull up in a devilish grin. As she continued making her exit, Tony dramatically turned his head to watch her. When they were alone, he whipped his head back around to glare at Steve.

“You owe me big time, super cop.” Tony threatened through his teeth. “Like, _big_ time.”  
Steve shook his head with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”  
“Whatever,” He grumbled. “I like you owing me anyway. Did the files I send you work?”  
“Yes, thanks for that, by the way.”  
“Hey, no problem. So what do you need this time? More private eye work?”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows like the idea excited him. But Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out the chip he took from Fury’s desk. Or he assumed that Fury gave to him. He showed it to Tony. 

“Not this time. What the hell is this thing?”  
“That...is the newest hardware Starktech is coming out with.” He said, holding his hand out for it. “Gonna replace the USB stick soon. But it’s not out yet. Don’t know what you’re doing with it though.”  
Steve dropped it into Tony’s hand. “Well, I need to know what’s on this one.”  
“Where’d you get this?”

He didn’t answer that. Whatever he said, Tony probably wouldn’t believe anyway. So, Tony shrugged and went over to one of the desks in the room to pick up tablet. He inserted the small chip in the port on the side. Like he was barely paying attention to the motions, he sat down and continued to pull up the files. Then his eyes lit up.

“Ooo,” He cooed. “This is encrypted.” Tony’s eyes never came off the screen. “You _do_ want me to break this, don’t you?”  
“I don’t really have a choice. Do your thing.”  
“Yes!” Tony exclaimed softly, cracking his knuckles and then feverishly typing on the keyboard that was being projected onto the desk. Since Steve had been hovered over him, Tony used his shoulder to move him away. “Don’t crowd me, Gerard.”  
“Sam Gerard was a U.S. Marshal.” Steve corrected.  
“Whatever,” He grumbled as he continued to work. 

It was silent for less than a minute when Steve felt his phone vibrating. Unable to tear his gaze off of what Tony was doing, even though he had no idea exactly what was going on on the screen, he pulled it out and answered it. 

“Detective Rogers.”  
There was a brief hesitation. “Steve?”

That voice was the only thing that could pull his attention away from what was going on with Tony. Excitement ran through him and Steve straightened up. 

“Hey!”

He rattled his head, embarrassed at just how blissful he sounded when he replied to Bucky’s greeting. But it sounded like Bucky chuckled. 

“Hey, Steve. Didn’t forget about me, did you?”  
“Not yet,” Steve teased. “Where have you been? I got a little worried.”  
He didn’t answer right away. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I was spending time with Alex. I...I didn’t have the chance to let you know.”  
“That’s all right.” Steve assured him, and couldn’t help feeling relieved himself. “Hey, you know who I’m with right now?”

He moved his upper body to look back at Tony, who stirred slightly when he said that, but not enough that he was fully aware he was being talked about yet. 

“No, who?”  
“Tony Stark.” That got Tony’s full attention and he twisted his head to give Steve a weird look. “You wanna talk to him?

Still making that face, Tony went back to breaking the codes. 

“What?!” Bucky squeaked. “No! Steve, don’t you dare put him on the phone!”  
“Are, are you sure? I mean, he’s right here...hey, Tony…”  
“Steve!”  
Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, please tell me I’m not watching you try to flirt with someone and using me to do it.”  
Steve chuckled. “Shut up, Tony.”  
“Holy shit, you really are with him, aren’t you?” Bucky murmured on the other end. “Oh my God…”  
Holding in a laugh, just a little bit, Steve backed away from Tony. “It’s okay. You can talk to him another time.”  
“I’m never telling you anything ever again.” he muttered, the amusement clear in his voice.   
Steve smiled. “Sure you will.”  
He tried not to laugh out loud when he heard him groan. 

“Oh man. Look, I _was_ going to see if you were available this afternoon, but if you’re going to show up with Tony Stark just to tease me…”

Bucky didn’t go on with that statement. Steve could tell he was torn between actually wanting him to show up with Tony and dreading it. 

“No, no, if you’re too nervous, we can save that for another time.”  
“Hey, hey, I’m not…” He cut himself off and grunted. “Does that mean you want to see me today?”  
“If you can,” Steve said. “But what are you going to do about your escorts?”  
“Oh, they’ll be with me,” He told him, his voice first excited and then dropping like he was unsure. “Um, if that’s all right with you…?”

That wasn’t the most ideal or comfortable position, but Steve would take it. There was, however, one thing he didn’t get. 

“I thought that wasn’t okay, you know, for you…”  
“No, it is,” Bucky cleared his throat. “I...I asked Alex. He said it was okay for us to be friends.”

Steve’s sudden required vacation made even more sense now. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if Pierce had called and demanded that he take time off so he had the chance to set him up. This was probably a trap. Then again, it might have been nothing. Perhaps Steve was just being paranoid, overthinking things. 

“Steve? Are you there?”  
“Yeah, Bucky, I’m here.”  
“Er, I’m sorry, are you busy?”  
“No, well, yes, right now, sort of…” Steve rattled his head like Bucky was there to see him falter over his words. “Um, wanna give me an hour? Where do you want to meet?”  
“We can have a late lunch?” He suggested. “How about Chez Peirre?”

That was one of those very ritzy places, similar to the restaurant that Bucky asked him to meet him at the first night. Steve had something better in mind. 

“How about you meet me at Maple Lanes?”  
“You want to meet _where_?”  
Steve laughed. “1570 60th Ave.”  
“What...is it?”  
“You’ll see. Just meet me there…” Steve thought about how he worded that and decided to amend it. “If you want to.”  
“Yeah, I want to. I’ll see you there...wherever that is.”   
He could hear the smile in his voice. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Looking at the phone for a moment after they disconnected, a goofy grin on his face, he heard Tony scoff.

“Geez, that was painful,” He mumbled. “No wonder you’re single.”  
“Shut up.”

But the smile still hadn’t gone away. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it to lessen. 

“Look at you,” Tony snickered. “You look like a twelve year old with a crush.”

Hand over his mouth, lowering his head so that he could hide his smile, Steve moved back over to where Tony was seated. 

“Whatever,” He grumbled. “Are you almost done?”  
“Computers are doing what needs to be done,” He said. “Give it a few more minutes and everything you want to read on this thing will be readable.” Tony glimpsed up at him, a question on his face. “Can I read it?”  
Steve rolled his eyes. “No.”  
“Ugh, you’re never any fun.”

As promised, Tony finished breaking the codes within just a few minutes. Once he had what he needed, and after thanking Tony--with the added promise that he’d let him read the file one day--Steve headed back out into the rain to meet Bucky, and only hoped that today wasn’t the last time he’d ever speak to his family.


	17. You Are At Chapter Seventeen

There was still a bit of pain in Bucky’s lower back. After spending five days standing, sleeping on the floor, and very rarely allowed to sit on the furniture, he was surprised his body wasn’t more achy than it was. It had been so long since he had been stripped of so much. In more recent years, when Bucky did something that wasn’t approved by Alex and resulted in loss of privilege, he usually lost things like his phone, or computer, or television, sometimes he was confined to the house for a while. Being without any privileges was something Alex hadn’t enforced since his last slip up with...well, Bucky didn’t really like to think about it.

As Alex stated, he had Bucky with him when he went everywhere, silently standing next to, yet slightly behind him--even if Alex was seated, he stood there. Bucky wasn’t allowed to say a word unless he was specifically addressed, which wasn’t very often. He went with Alex to all his formal meetings, his luncheons, stood there when he wasn’t at a meeting at all, just taking phone calls. Bucky stood quietly, or when Alex permitted, sat on the floor, when he sat and relaxed. He was allowed at the table to eat, but was left to eat alone and only after Alex was finished with his meal first. At night, Bucky slept outside of Alex’s room. It was uncomfortable, but it was still better than sleeping on the streets. At least it was warm, it was dry, and no one was going to hurt him in the middle of the night.

The silence and loss of privilege was indeed a good reminder to Bucky of why he was so grateful to Alex. All of which he was denied over the past few days, not just the luxury items, but the furniture, the beds, the blankets, the company, they were all things that Alex provided for him--privileges, not rights. Bucky needed to keep that in mind. He had no way of getting any of that for himself. After all, he couldn’t even hold down jobs in customer service, couldn’t live on his own for just a few months. He needed Alex. He was lucky enough that Alex gave him all that he did. 

Still, Bucky couldn’t help thinking about Steve. He always ended up back in his mind, no matter what was going on around him. What was he doing? Was he thinking about him? Did he wonder what he was up to? So when Alex told him last night that today he’d be reinstating his privileges, Bucky’s first thought was Steve. 

He spent the morning with Alex though, happy to be able to do so in a more normal setting. It was nice to be able to just sit and talk with him again, to give him playful smirks, and to touch him. Oh, to be able to touch him, to touch anyone. Human contact was something many people often took for granted. It was a good thing to be able to take for granted, and something that, Bucky felt, no one should ever not have the chance to take for granted. But during that entire time, Bucky had no physical contact with Alex--or anyone else. No hugs, no pats, no handshakes, not even a comforting squeeze of the arm--nothing. There Bucky was, surrounded by people, yet completely isolated. 

That’s why this morning he spent as much time as he could touching Alex--whether in his arms, brushed up against him or just by reaching out and leaving his hand somewhere on him--Bucky made some sort of contact. When Alex told him he would need to leave for the rest of the afternoon, Bucky was sure to get permission to go out. He didn’t want to take any chances. This time he would prove to him that he was everything he said he was. 

Now that Bucky was on his way, being driven to the address that Steve had given him, he found himself jittery and even jumpy. Knowing he had permission to go out today, and to be friends with Steve, took so much pressure off of him. There would be no need to sneak around, no need to hide, no need to lie, therefore, there would be no more guilt. 

Head back against the seat, Bucky gazed up at the ceiling with a smile. He didn’t even realize that the car had stopped and was parked until the door opened. Still leaned back, he moved his head to see that John was waiting for him to get out. He had an umbrella lifted up over him, one that he would hold over Bucky when he finally got out. 

“Where are we?” Bucky wondered.  
“This is the address you told me,” John muttered. “I’m just doing what you wanted.”

Bucky took a peek out the door and was baffled to see where he’d been taken. They were on some crummy city side block, in front of a big brick building on the corner, nothing like where he normally went to nowadays. The rain wasn’t all that hard, but it was enough that people were hurrying to get inside. Bucky slid towards the door and looked up at the skies. 

“Afraid to get a little wet?”

When he heard Steve’s taunting voice over the rain, Bucky’s eyes moved about to find him out there. He was leaning up against the building, standing underneath the awning, arms pinned against his chest. The moment Bucky’s gaze landed on him, Steve gave him a playful sneer. 

Licking his teeth and narrowing his eyes at him, Bucky huffed and started to get out of the car. Once he was on the sidewalk, John had the umbrella over him. Before he even took a step to walk over to the building, Steve pushed away from it, into the rain, and came to him instead. 

“What’s the matter, your highness?” He teased. “Is the water gonna mess up your hair?”

Bucky blew a soft raspberry through his lips. Who would have thought that Steve Rogers would have such a snarky sense of humor? 

“You can wait here, John,” Bucky told him, but kept his eyes on Steve. “I’ll be in there with Detective Rogers.”

Pretty sure John first threw something of an impressed look at Steve, he then shrugged and sauntered back to the driver’s side door. Before he got in, he lifted his arm and twirled his finger in the air. From out behind their car, pulled out another one. This wasn’t unusual for Bucky. That was just his other escorts--he always had more than one whenever his plans weren’t for him to be in one place and then to return right back to the house. The others were going to check the perimeter or something like that. But Bucky saw Steve’s eyes follow the car until it turned the corner. 

“Who was that?” He asked.   
“More escorts,” Bucky explained. “I...I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable. They’re just here to keep me safe.”

Just standing there in the rain, his hair beginning to very moist and clothes starting to follow, Bucky bit down on his lip. He felt an immediate sense of comfort when Steve grinned.

“Shall we?”  
“Well, I’m just standing here getting soaked,” He said. “I hope you have something a little better than this planned.”  
“I might,” Steve muffed up his own hair, vigorously running his hand across his head so that hundreds of drops of water sprayed Bucky in the face.   
“Oh come on!” Bucky exclaimed, doing what he could not to laugh and wiped the moisture off his face. He glowered at Steve. “I’m going to get you back for that, punk.”  
“Oh yeah?” he sniggered, taking a few steps towards the corner. “Well, you’re not gonna get anywhere just standing there.”

Bucky shook his head, his lips pulling up into a crooked smile, and followed Steve to the front of the building. Since he wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, he was surprised to see where he’d taken him. 

“Really?” He questioned, his voice flat. “A bowling alley?”

Steve, already at the door and holding it open for him, gave him a look as though he was daring him to make fun of this. 

“Is there something wrong with bowling?”  
Rolling his head around once, Bucky let out one brief and hesitant chuckle. “Bowling’s for children.”  
“I beg your pardon,” Steve proclaimed. “Tell that to the Downtown Precinct Incredibowls.” 

At that last statement, Bucky couldn’t help the fact that his eyes went wide with amusement, and he took one long step forward so that he was under the awning over the door. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, barely able to contain the laughter he was sure was on the way. “Tell that to who?”  
Steve sighed like he understood he had a reason to be embarrassed.   
“The Downtown Precinct Incredibowls.” Before Bucky had the chance to criticize, which he would have right away if he wasn’t too busy laughing, Steve gave his explanation. “Clint came up with it. He...He’s got an odd way of seeing things.”  
“Oh boy,” Bucky wiped the moisture from his eyes. He’d been laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Yeah, I can see that.”  
“Come on, Bucky,” Steve chuckled. “You wanna do this?”

Bucky sulked. He’d much rather go to a nice restaurant or a club or shopping or even swimming. But a noisy, smelly bowling alley? Still, he sucked it up and went inside. There weren’t a lot of people, probably because it was the middle of the week.

“How come you’re not at work?” Bucky blurted as he followed Steve to the counter.   
“Vacation,” was all Steve said. 

Boy, when he told him he was a bad liar, he wasn’t...well, lying. Not that Bucky thought he was lying about being on vacation. He was fairly sure that was true. But Steve got awkward and tense when he said it, so he figured there was more to it than that. He didn’t bring it up though. He never had the chance to anyway. Steve was at the counter, doing whatever it was he needed to do in order to bowl. 

Bucky watched with a grimace as Steve kicked his shoes off and placed them up on the counter, leaning his forearms against it when he did and then turning his gaze on him. 

“What size shoe do you wear?”  
“Uh-ah,” Bucky shook his head. “I’m not wearing those shoes.”  
“You can’t bowl without them.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Bucky pushed out his lips in a stubborn sulk and stayed right where he was. Steve shrugged with a slight chuckle. 

“Suit yourself.”

Grabbing the shoes the attendant put on the counter, Steve nodded his head towards Bucky so he’d keep up with him. First stopping at one of the long racks, Steve picked a bowling ball to use, then they went to the lane Steve had paid for, which happened to be next to some little kid’s birthday party. 

“All these empty spaces, and we need to share one?” Bucky grumbled. 

Though Steve had already sat down on one of the plastic seats to put the ugly bowling shoes on, it looked like his lips were pinched as though he was trying not to laugh at him. 

“You’re such a brat,” He laughed, and glanced up through his lashes while he was tying his shoes. “Do you always whine when you don’t get what you want?”

Bucky grimaced and plopped down in a seat in the row furthest from the small party going on. He pouted for a moment.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve had been entering something into the computer when Bucky had answered. Bucky’s response made him grin. He tapped his finger down one final time and looked up at the screen above them. Following his lead and glancing up, Bucky saw Steve’s initials appear. Steve spun in his seat to face him, slapped his hands down on his thighs and stood. He gave Bucky a flick of his eyebrows.

“You sure you don’t wanna do this with me?” He asked. 

Bucky crossed his arms again and glanced down at Steve’s shoes. He let his gaze drift back up to his face and he let his lips set in a line. Steve must have found him pretty funny cause he laughed again. 

“All because of the shoes?”  
“They don’t match.”  
Steve shook his head, that dopey smile still on his lips. “They don’t match anything.”

But he quit trying to get him to play and went to the ball return, hung his fingers in front of the little fan to dry them, and then picked up his ball. Bucky watched as Steve waited patiently for the two little kids to take turns--rolling the ball down the lane by pushing it through their legs--and giving them little high-fives when they knocked some of the pins down. It wasn’t that big of a deal, they had bumpers up. When Steve finally went, he got a strike, and the two kids raced up to him to give him more high fives. Their faces were bright and excited, and Steve laughed when they jumped up to reach his outstretched hand. 

He hated to admit it, but Bucky was actually jealous of them, of the two little kids that Steve was playing with. He felt so ridiculous. 

“Do you wanna come to my birthday party?” The little girl with olive-toned skin asked, her thick, hazelnut-colored hair pulled into pigtails, and chocolate eyes shining with excitement.   
“I don’t know,” Steve responded, putting his hands on his hips like he was thinking hard about that. “Am I invited?”  
“I just invited you!” She squealed.   
The little boy, his pale skin flushed with anticipation, pointed at Steve’s belt. “You’re a cop, right?” He hopped once. “Can you arrest someone?”

With his thumb, Steve pointed over his shoulder at Bucky, which made Bucky straighten up like he was expecting something to happen. 

“How about my buddy over there?” Steve commented. “He’s being a baby because he doesn’t like the bowling shoes.”

The two kids let their mouths drop open and they stared at Bucky, sitting there by himself and now trying his damndest not to look back at them. Instead, he glared up at Steve, who just shrugged with a little smirk. 

“Maybe you can go convince him?” Steve wondered. “If your parents say it’s okay.”  
“Mom, Dad!” The little girl shouted.   
“Bernie?” The boy called out just a second after.   
“As long as it’s okay with the gentleman,” one of the women there said. “Just don’t go anywhere else, Kaleb.”  
“You, too, Vee.” the little girl’s parents said. 

Everything had happened so quickly. Steve’s suggestion, the two kids getting permission from the parents to follow through, and Bucky’s reaction. To which he really had none other than to sit there seething at Steve. But there really wasn’t enough time to do that anyway. Within seconds, the two kids, Kaleb and Vee respectively, were running up to him, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. 

“Come on, mister!” Vee pleaded. “The shoes are fun! Look,” She slid her feet across the floor, “it’s like I’m skating!”  
“Yeah and everyone has them on!” Kaleb pointed out. “Even a cop!”  
“You gotta bowl, too! You gotta!” Vee laced her fingers together and pushed her little lip out. “Please! It’s my birthday!”

Bucky had no idea how it happened, but he suddenly found himself feeling exceptionally vulnerable to these two children. His stiff and rigid posture softened, his face relaxed and he looked up at Steve with the hopes of pleading for help with his eyes, but only found him trying to contain his laughter. Bucky groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 

“Okay, okay,” He relented. “I’ll get the stupid shoes.”

Kaleb and Vee hopped up and down cheering as he did. With a huff, and one last glare in Steve’s direction--though he was too busy laughing to notice--Bucky went to the counter to trade his nearly thousand dollar designer shoes for a pair of shitty, used and smelly bowling shoes. As he waited for the attendant to fetch his size 10 ½ shoes, someone wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Now, was that so difficult?” Steve murmured into his ear. 

Bucky huffed, and so badly wished he had the willpower to push away from him. But Steve’s embrace felt so warm, so inviting and good, that he didn’t have the strength. Instead, he held onto Steve’s forearm with both his hands and leaned into him. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it was.” He whined.   
Pressing his hairline against Bucky’s temple, Steve let out a quiet laugh. “You’re such a little liar. It was not. And now instead of sulking, you’re going to have fun like the rest of us.”

Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Bucky rotated his head so that he could see Steve’s face. He had intended on saying something witty back to him, but the proximity of Steve’s mouth made any coherent thought disappear from his brain. Bucky felt his lower lip quiver and for one tormenting second, he wanted to press his mouth against Steve’s. Before he could give into such devilish temptations, Steve moved away, grabbed the shoes that someone had placed on the counter without him noticing, and took Bucky by the hand. He stepped backwards, letting their arms stretch fully between them. 

“Come on,’ He said, that teasing glint in his eyes, and holding the shoes out like he was going to pull them away if Bucky reached for them. “You don’t want to disappoint those little kids, do you?”

With a groan, and a quick glimpse to see that Kaleb and Vee were indeed anxiously waiting for their return, Bucky dragged his feet, but went along anyway. He was virtually unable to resist. Maybe it was those precious faces that he wished weren’t so damned precious. Or maybe, and more than likely, it was the way Steve interacted with them, made them happy and smiley and excited. It was like people were drawn to him, like he had some uncanny--and unaware of--ability to make people around him smile. 

Whatever the reason, Bucky laced up those ugly shoes, let Steve help him pick out a ball to use, and had his name added to the scoreboard. Then, he and Steve, along with the little party next to them, spent the next two hours bowling. When it turned out it wasn’t quite as simple as he thought, Steve helped him get his form right. He showed him how to hold the ball correctly and where his feet should go and what he should be aiming for. Didn’t mean he got any better, because even after the second game Bucky hadn’t thrown much more than gutter balls, but he still felt himself having fun. Despite his initial attempts to foil the afternoon with his bad mood, Bucky found himself all smiles and laughs, sharing high-fives with the kids and--much to Bucky’s delight--with Steve. They ate pizza with the partiers, and even sang--well, Steve sang, Bucky pretended to sing--happy birthday when they took out a big cake with princesses and superheroes on it. When they began to serve it, and handed Bucky and Steve pieces of their own, Bucky realized that he and Steve had been holding hands. He had no idea how long their hands had been together, but when Steve let go to take a plate from Kaleb’s mom, he felt lonely without the contact.

Once the cake was finished, and the partiers were leaving--only after the kids gave huge hugs to Steve and more high-fives to Bucky--Steve started taking the shoes off, and he felt the disappointment wash over him. 

“Are we leaving?” He asked, embarrassed by the wobble in his voice.   
Steve smirked up at him. “Here? Yeah. My arm’s gonna get sore soon. We did bowl four games you know.”

Four games? Had it really been that many? Bucky checked his phone to see the time. He only had ninety minutes left until curfew. Two hours had gone by in what seemed like minutes. His time with Steve always went by so quickly. 

“But...I still have an hour and half before I have to go back to Alex’s,” He commented, noticing the way Steve’s eyes lifted to him when he said it. “Do you want to do something else?”

The way Steve’s face blushed and he lowered his head again to hide his smirk, like he was thrilled that he didn’t want to leave just yet, made Bucky run his fingers through his hair. It was like he couldn’t help himself. 

“Cause, you know, everyone always has a good time with me,” Bucky stated, his tongue running along his lip. 

Kicking the shoes off, Steve rolled his eyes before shoving them towards Bucky’s feet. 

“You know what?” He replied. “How bout you go return these,” Steve pointed between the shoes both by Bucky’s feet and on them. “Get ours back while I straighten up over here. Then we’ll see about doing something else. Okay?”

Bucky gave Steve one of his sly grins and did what was requested of him. Quickly putting his own shoes back on--he wasn’t about to admit that the bowling shoes weren’t all that bad, not after his little hissy fit--he went to bring Steve’s shoes back to him and noticed that Bernie, Kaleb’s mom, was there talking to him. Steve smiled down at her and nodded, then leaned in to give her a quick hug. She went to leave, spotted Bucky before she did and waved at him. He was unsure of himself, and sort of froze for a moment, but did manage to lift his arm a little to give a slight wave back. 

“What was that all about?” Bucky wondered when he handed Steve his shoes.   
Steve sat down to put them on. “Nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

There was a smile on his face, but Steve sounded off. Bucky wished there was something he could do to comfort him--or even just to get him to tell him what was bothering him. He didn’t get the chance to though. As soon as his shoes were on, Steve looked up like it had just been the two of them the entire time. 

“Ready?”  
Bucky nodded. “Where to?”  
“Well, our time is limited, right?”

For just one second, one instant, Bucky thought about calling Alex to ask if he could have more time. He shook the notion away. How ridiculous to even think of it. After all the things he’d let slide lately, all the freedoms he allowed, even just letting him be out here with Steve, for Bucky to ask for more would seem ungrateful and greedy. Those were things he was trying to rid himself of, even after all these years. 

“That’s right.” He responded. “I have to be back at six.”  
“Okay then, it stopped raining, do you want to take a walk on the boardwalk?”  
Bucky’s heart pounded. “The boardwalk?”  
“Yeah, we’re only a few minutes from there. We can walk it.”

Of all the places to suggest, Bucky couldn’t believe it was the boardwalk. One of the places he loved to go that Alex hated.

“You like it there?”  
“I love it down there. Families, people just having a good time, family run stores, games, rides, candy, the ocean...what’s not to like?”  
Feeling the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I’d love...but…” He paused and shuffled in his spot. “My escorts...they have to…”  
“I figured they’d have to be there. It’s okay. It won’t bother me.”

That wasn’t the problem. While Bucky didn’t want Steve to be bothered by his escorts’ presence, Bucky was suddenly bothered. With them there, he couldn’t be so natural with Steve. He couldn’t hold his hand, or lean into him, or let Steve wrap his arm around him. What would they think? 

“Or did you just want to leave and save that for another time?”

At first, he was going to say yes, that it was better for him to leave. But he didn’t want to leave. Bucky wanted to stay with Steve. He shouldn’t have wanted that, but he did and he couldn’t deny it. 

“No. Let’s go.”

Bucky would hate himself later, but right before they exited the bowling alley, before they’d be joined by his escorts, he looped his arm with Steve’s and snuggled up against him. In response, Steve wrapped his arm around his waist again, giving him an affectionate jostle. It only lasted until they reached the doors, but Bucky did what he could to memorize the feeling.


	18. Here is Chapter Eighteen

Steve had waited in front of the building while Bucky went to fetch his escorts. He knew it was a risk to be out in the open like this, with them around, but he was still willing to take the chance. The car with his two other escorts drove by before Bucky came back, but when he did turn the corner again, John was just a few feet behind him. Bucky actually looked a little embarrassed this time, like he was worried about what Steve thought about all this. 

While Steve wished he could tell him, wished that he could just come out and say that he thought Pierce was a manipulative, abusive bastard who was taking advantage of and hurting Bucky in so many ways, he knew he couldn’t. In his line of work, Steve had come across this before. He knew it would most likely cause Bucky to withdraw, to defend his relationship with Pierce even further. In Bucky’s mind, Pierce was his savior--and in many ways, he probably had saved him. Whatever Bucky’s life had been before Pierce, it had been bad enough that the illusion of happiness Pierce was able to instill in him was unbelievably strong, and so much better than his previous life that he wouldn’t question it. After all, Pierce had more than a decade to foster and cultivate that illusion, to feed it to Bucky and make him fully believe that this is what happiness and love really was. 

There was only one way Steve knew of to break that illusion, and that was to show Bucky what love and affection could really be like. He needed to show him trust, kindness, compassion, friendship and closeness. Steve wanted him to feel tenderness and warmth, and to understand that not everyone would expect something in return for all of it. He needed to learn---or unlearn--that making a mistake didn’t necessarily mean he was a failure or that the world would turn its back on him. Those glimpses Steve got of his arrogance, that swagger and confidence, he was sure that who Bucky was before he was hurt, probably way before Pierce even got his hands on him. 

Steve was determined to give him all he could and more. He would show him the love his mother spoke about and the affection he so desired to give him. This was just something he felt compelled to do. There was something about Bucky that made Steve need to do this for him. He felt something for him, something he’d never felt for anyone else. It wasn’t something Steve understood, especially since he barely knew him. All he knew was when the woman they’d bowled alongside of, Bernie, told him she thought they made a great and adorable couple, he hated having to tell her that they weren’t together. 

He also knew that when Bucky approached him now, running his fingers through his hair and adopting that bit of his cocky strut to his steps as he got nearer, he wished he could just kiss him the way he wanted to back in the bowling alley. Though he loved to push his buttons about it, Steve adored Bucky’s confidence--when it decided to show--and even the bit of brattiness that appeared when he didn’t get his way. 

When Bucky finally reached him, he put on that arrogant, crooked grin and tilted his head with a shrug. 

“Sorry about this,” He murmured, jerking his thumb towards John who had slowed to a pause about half a block away when Bucky stopped. “Alex insists.”

Steve chuckled. “That’s okay. I like being with you anyway.”

At first, Bucky lit up with the compliment. Before he would let Steve see how much it meant to him though, just like Steve figured, Bucky picked his hands up and shook his head like that was just to be expected. 

“Hey, what can I say,” He cooed. “Everyone loves me, huh?  
“All right, calm down there,” Steve joked. “You wanna go to the boardwalk or not?”  
Bucky kept that grin of his in line by pressing his teeth down into his bottom lip. “Yeah, I do. Let’s go.”

Like Steve said, it only took them a few minutes to get there. It took a lot of restraint on Steve’s part not to reach out to try to hold his hand or put his arm around his waist or on his shoulder or just make some contact with him as they strolled along the boardwalk. They were chatting, about nothing in particular, though it was obvious that Bucky kept pushing the conversation on Steve, when Bucky pointed to one of the shops. 

“I want ice-cream,” He announced. “You wanna get me some ice-cream?”  
Steve gave him an amused look. “Do I want to get you some?”  
Bucky waved his look off with a laugh. “Eh, you know what I mean.”  
“Oh, okay, Bucky,” Steve chuckled. “Let’s go get some ice-cream.”

Like he was a little kid who just got their way, Bucky gave him a huge, cheesy smile and headed for the little ice-cream parlor. Since it was nicer out now, they were able to be served at the window. Bucky leaned backwards, resting on his elbows against the counter, while Steve ordered. 

“What’dya want?” Steve asked as his fished his wallet out. 

Bucky was staring across the path and wasn’t paying attention to him, so Steve poked him in the side. It made him let out a gasp and a muffled giggle as he jumped to the side. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed. “What was that for?”  
Steve grinned. “I asked you what you wanted. You weren’t listening.”  
“Oh, uh, vanilla.” His face was flushed, like he was embarrassed by his reaction to being tickled. “On a cone.”

Turning back to the window, Steve ordered their treats, getting Bucky his vanilla cone and a chocolate shake for himself. Once he had them, Steve moved away from the window, cone and cup in hand, and headed over to the other side of the boardwalk so they could lean against the railing and watch the ocean. He made Bucky wait until they got there before handing him his ice-cream.

“What do we say?” Steve teased after he gave it to him. 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky made a show of taking his first lick, rolling his tongue sensually along the ice-cream. 

“You have no manners,” Steve chuckled and nudged the end of Bucky’s cone so that the very top of the ice-cream got all over his nose. 

“What the…!” Bucky yelped. “Steve!”

Steve laughed at what he’d done and Bucky’s failed attempts at trying to wipe the ice-cream off his face without using his hands. It was like he had no idea what to do. He handed him a couple of napkins. 

“Look at the mess you’re making, Bucky,” He snickered. “Haven’t you ever eaten ice-cream before.”  
“Ugh,” He grunted as he wiped his nose clean. Bucky sneered at Steve for a moment and then gave him a jab in the arm. “Punk.”

Grabbing his arm, Steve went to give him a retort when he noticed that as cocky as he looked, Bucky still seemed a bit unsure of himself. Like he wasn’t sure if it was okay that he hit Steve like that, playful or not, he had backed up a bit. He knew he needed to let Bucky know he’d done nothing wrong. 

 

“That’s quite a punch you pack there,” He said, rubbing the spot he’d gotten. “Didn’t know you were a boxer.”

That loosened him back up and Bucky leaned over the railing. 

“I’m just full of surprises like that.” He sang, his voice light and airy.

Bucky had gone back to eating his ice-cream and Steve took a long sip of his shake. Steve watched him for a moment as he gazed out at the ocean, the warm glow of the sun reflecting back on his face. 

“So, how old were you when your dad died?” Steve wondered. 

That question seemed to pull Bucky right back into the moment. 

“Uh, eight,” He replied, taking more of his ice-cream and keeping his eyes out at the shore.  
“Did you get close to your--”  
“Did your mom get mad at you for getting into fights all the time?” Bucky asked before Steve could finish his question.  
“What?”  
“You said that you used to get into fights at school all the time,” He clarified. “Did your mom get mad at you for that?”

Steve could hear the edge creeping into Bucky’s voice. He didn’t want to talk about himself, even if he was one of his favorite subjects. His personal life was still off limits so Bucky had diverted the conversation back to him. 

“Not mad, really,” He said, allowing Bucky to steer the discussion in the direction he felt most comfortable. “More worried than anything. I didn’t go to public school until the third grade and the fighting started right away. I was healthier, yeah, but she knew I my bark was sometimes, well, lots of times, bigger than my bite.”  
“You didn’t go to school before then?” Bucky wondered, obviously trying to seem nonchalant about it, but only pulling it off so much.  
“No, I was home schooled.”  
Bucky’s eyebrows lifted. “What was it like? First going to school, I mean.”

 

_They had ignored him, all day. Everyone. The scrawny, skinny new kid who had showed up a week after the first day of school, clothes practically hanging off his too-small body and backpack appearing to pull him to the ground. Steve was okay with that though. He had been nervous, excited, but nervous. Interacting with his peers had never been one of his strong points. His mother always told him he was born with an old soul and a modern view. He never really understood what she meant by that, but she seemed sure of it._

_The day was finished, even though no one had gone home yet. They were all in the school yard, running across the blacktop, playing games like tag and hide-and-seek. Steve hadn’t intended on staying. He’d have been halfway home already if his backpack wasn’t so heavy. The September sun beat down on him, so he figured he’d wait a little while until he got started. He sat under the shade of the one tree at the side of the school yard, leaned up against its trunk, knees up with his sketch pad on his thighs so he could draw at bit. That’s when he heard it._

_There was yelling coming from just a few feet away from him. Steve peered around the other side of the tree. On the side of the school building were two kids from Steve’s grade; he recognized them from the lunch room. One of them, the big, stocky one, had pushed the smaller one down. From what Steve could tell, it sounded like he was pushing him down just because he could. The boy on the ground covered his body with his arms and curled in on himself as the one who hovered over him laughed._

_Something about the scene didn’t sit right with Steve. He looked around. There were two teachers and a few parents around. One of them had glanced over at the little scuffle, but not one of them moved. Anger ripped through him, and Steve hopped up to race over there. The only thing he could think to do was to throw himself into the bigger boy. All that did was knock Steve down to the ground. The boy first glanced around like he was confused by what just happened. When he saw Steve down there, he chortled._

_“What the hell is this?” He towered over Steve. “What are you supposed to be? A lab rat?”_  
 _Steve picked himself back up and just ignored his comments. “Leave him alone.”_  
 _The boy scoffed. “Are you gonna make me?”_

_He knew he stood no chance. There was no way he could make this boy do anything. But Steve still held his fists up like he was prepared to fight. The boy laughed, and a few other kids must have noticed the commotion as they began to gather around._

_“Yeah, okay,” The boy taunted. “Go on, I’ll give you the first one for free.”_

_Steve took him up on that offer and swung his fist. He did get him, right in the jaw, but it did nothing. The kid shoved him so hard in the chest that when Steve fell back to the ground he practically flipped over. Gravel and dirt ended up in his mouth. He spit it out and realized he’d ended up next to the kid he’d gone over to defend._

_“Just stay down,” He whispered to Steve. “It’ll be over quicker.”_

_The boy next to him looked so beaten and broken, so scared and just exhausted. Steve understood that feeling. He’d known it when his body turned against him, when illness came creeping in on him in the middle of the night and tried to let death take him. That was no way for anyone to live. And he would show them._

_Steve got up again. He put up his fists, dug his heels into the ground and waited. The boy across from him scoffed once more and strolled over. People around them were chanting ‘fight’, ‘fight’, ‘fight’. The punch he took to the side of his head was like nothing he’d ever expected. Steve toppled back over, the world spinning all around him, and had to take in several deep breaths to see straight again._

_“You done?” His assailant taunted._

_Holding the side of his head, Steve rose to his feet and glared at him. There was a cut where he was hit, he could feel the warm blood on the palm of his hand, but he pulled it away and took his stance again._

_”I can do this all day.”_  
 _“Jesus, you don’t know when to give up, do you?”_  
 _“I guess not,” Steve said._

_He moved in to hit Steve once more and Steve braced himself for it. But instead of getting hit, someone snagged him by the back of the shirt and pulled him away._

_“What is this? What’s going on?”_  
 _“Oh, nothing, Mr. Sitwell,” the boy lied, his voice high and innocent. “We were just fooling around.”_  
 _“Yeah, sure you were, Victor,” Mr. Sitwell rolled his eyes. “Get outta here, all of you. Go home. School’s over.” He let go of Steve’s shirt and turned to him as all the other kids ran off`. “Not off to a good start, Mr. Rogers.”_  
 _“It wasn’t his fault, Mr. Sitwell,” the other boy, who was now back on his feet, defended. “He was just helping me out.”_

_Mr. Sitwell, one of the teachers if Steve remembered correctly, shook his head at him when he said that._

_“Benjamin,” He sighed. “What happened this time?”_  
 _“Same as usual.” Benjamin said, brushing the dirt and dust off of himself. “Just Victor picking on me.”_  
 _“Well, you know the way it goes,” He said. “If I catch you two fighting, I have to call both your parents. You’ll both be suspended.” Mr. Sitwell looked back at Steve again. “That goes for you, too. Doesn’t matter who started it. School rules. So don’t let me catch you at it again.”_  
 _“So, what should I do?” Steve questioned. “Just sit back and watch next time someone’s beating someone up?”_  
 _“Get a grown up.” Mr. Sitwell suggested._  
 _“There **were** grownups,” Steve insisted. “None of them **did** anything.”_  
 _“Look, you’re new here, Mr. Rogers,” He said. “But there is just a certain way that things work. And if you’re going to fit in and get by, you have to follow the rules.”_

_On that last statement, Mr. Sitwell strode away. Steve just stared after him, unable to believe he’d just gotten scolded for trying to help someone._

_“Looks like I’m not gonna fit in around here,” He mumbled._  
 _“Why didn’t you just stay down?”_

_Steve looked at Benjamin._

_“I don’t know,” He shrugged, “Didn’t feel right. If I stayed down then...I don’t think I’d ever get back up.”_

_Benjamin stared at him as though that was the most inspiring thing he’d ever heard in his life. But then he rattled his head, ridding himself of the expression._

_“Well, you’re sure gonna make it hard for you around here. You should just stay low. You look like you’re gonna keel over.”_  
 _Steve sighed. “Better to keel over doing what’s right than while doing nothing.”_  
 _“Whatever,” Benjamin muttered. “Good luck.”_

_Benjamin stalked off like he was now annoyed with Steve. Steve didn’t really understand anything that just happened. Rather than try to figure it out, he just went home._

 

_“Oh, God! Steven!” His mother yelled when she saw him. “What happened?!”_  
 _“It’s nothing, Mom,” Steve grumbled as he tossed his bag down and plopped onto the couch. “Just a little cut.”_  
 _“Steve, your face is all banged up,” She was already grabbing an ice-pack from freezer and hurrying it to him. “Did you get into a fight?”_

_She pressed the ice against his face. He hated to admit it felt good._

_“Not really. Some kid was picking on another kid. No one did anything.”_  
 _His mother brushed some of the hair away from his eyes. “Oh, Steve. And let me guess...you **did** do something.”_  
 _“Well...yeah.”_

_She sighed. Steve hadn’t realized that she’d also brought in a wet wash cloth. She started wiping off his face._

_“Are you mad?” Steve whispered._  
 _“Mad?” She let out an uneasy giggle. “Not mad, Steve...just...you can’t do the things that other kids do, baby.”_  
 _“I don’t care, Mom. I can’t just not do something when someone is in trouble, especially when someone is picking on someone.”_  
 _Sarah folded the cloth and caressed his face. “Yeah, I know. Just...please tell me you’ll be careful.”_

 

“Were you?” Bucky asked.  
“Was I what?”  
“Careful?”  
Steve stretched his lips and then sucked down the rest of his shake. “No, not really. I tried to keep it from her, but she never bought it.”

Bucky was quiet for a little while, just staring straight ahead like whatever was bothering him was calmed by the waves. Not wanting to push him, Steve gave him the silence he needed and just looked at him for a little bit, watching the wind blow his hair in different directions. This desire to keep his eyes on him was ridiculous. Steve rattled his head and tore his gaze away, focusing instead on other things. His eyes found Bucky’s three escorts within seconds. They were scattered on the boardwalk, one across from them, one about ten yards to the left and the last about fifteen yards to the right. Perhaps others wouldn’t be able to spot them and notice that they had been following them, but Steve could. 

“So you just...wouldn’t stay down?” Bucky suddenly asked. “Even though you could’ve died?”  
Steve didn’t quite understand the question at first. “What?”  
“You knew that that Victor guy could’ve kill you, cause you were all sick and all, but you still went over to help the other kid anyway? And wouldn’t back down?”  
“Yes.” Steve nodded. “That’s what happened. And continued to happen for quite a while. I started to get healthy as I got bigger, and then with the help of all the medicines that started becoming available there wasn’t as much of a risk, but still…”  
“Did you ever get them back?” Bucky wondered, his face shining with vulgar intrigue.  
“Get who back?”  
He rolled his eyes. “The people who beat you up. You know, when you couldn’t defend yourself. When you were bigger, did you get back at them?”  
Steve shook his head. “No. It never occurred to me to even try. Why would I want to become the thing I hate?”

In a huff, Bucky clenched the railing and then pushed away from it. His face was red, and pinched in irritation. 

“I need to go.” He muttered and started to storm away.  
“What?” Steve called after him. “Bucky, wait!”  
“No,” Bucky grumbled, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you…”

But Steve caught up to him before he could finish whatever he was going to say and took him gently by the waist. 

“Hey, wait a minute,” He requested calmly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Bucky spun around, a vicious glare in his eyes, and stepped up so close that Steve could feel the heat coming from his body.

“You do _everything_ wrong, Steve!” He shouted. “Don’t you get that? Why do you have to be everything I’m…”

He didn’t finish that. Instead, Bucky folded his lips in and then ground his teeth together. Another huff blew from his lips and he backed up. The look on his face, that angry and frustrated expression, filled Steve with guilt. He had gotten a little used to Bucky’s mood swings, his defensiveness when he showed him affection, but this time it took him by such surprise that he didn’t know what to do about it. 

“Bucky, I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
“It’s fine,” He muttered, his face still hard and eyes unwilling to look up at Steve. “I just have to go.”  
“Please, don’t go like this,” He beseeched. “Come on, I’ll get you another ice-cream.” Eyes finally rising to meet his, Steve could see he was not amused. “Aw, Bucky, look, I’m trying here. I’m trying so hard. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”  
“I just want you to be normal!” Bucky demanded. “Just be like everyone else!”  
Steve just sighed. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m just me. This is all I know how to be.”

As though he suddenly understood that this wasn’t some personal attack on him, Bucky’s face cleared of the intensity it had been riddled with. He rubbed the bottom of his palm across his brow. 

“Yeah, I, I know…” He let out a grunt. “I have to go, though. I...thanks for being with me today. It was fun.”  
“Bucky…”  
“No,” He held his palms out. “This is my fault. I ruined it. I’m sorry.”

Steve knew he was about to try to get away again, to run from whatever he was feeling. 

“Just one second,” Steve requested, and Bucky obliged. “We’re okay, though, right?”

Bucky’s eyes, swimming with desire and clearly longing for some physical affection, sought Steve’s. Steve so badly wished he could just pull him into his arms. That was impossible at the moment. 

“Yeah,” He said softly. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to ruin the day.”

Maybe there was one thing Steve could do that Bucky’s escorts wouldn’t think anything of. He reached out and clapped his hand down on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. 

“You didn’t ruin anything, Bucky.”  
The corners of his lips twitched, but the small smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. Can I see you later in the week?”  
“Of course, Bucky,” Steve assured him. “I’ve told you before, if you need something, you let me know, okay?”  
Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, lowering his chin as he did. “‘Kay.” 

Steve watched him as he walked away, saying nothing to his escorts. They regrouped quickly though, gathering around him in mere moments. He wished that he could walk back with him, however, Steve could tell he wanted to be alone. Well, he probably didn’t really want to be alone, but being with Steve was a source of conflict at the moment. Steve would do whatever he had to to avoid that.

 

When he got home, Steve knew he only had a few minutes to himself. He needed to get up to the hospital before they started wondering where he was. There was one thing he needed to do first. He hurried to open his laptop and put Stark’s new USB-stick into the port on the side. He pulled up the files Tony decoded and started reading through them. They were bank accounts, phone calls, even snippets of surveillance footage, and it was all on Pierce. It took Steve a moment to realize where these all came from. 

The FBI. 

These were files from the FBI.


	19. We're At Chapter Nineteen Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter has explicit sexual content dealing with major power exchange and used for emotional/psychological manipulation and abuse

Bucky needed to get back to Alex--fast. He needed to feel Alex around him, his presence, his skin, he scent. Those were the things that made sense. Alex made sense. Not Steve. Nothing Steve ever did made sense. How could someone be so inspiring? How could someone be so right? How could someone _feel_ so right? He hated it. Hated all of it. And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the desire to be with Steve from his mind, from his heart--his body. 

That’s why he needed Alex. Alex made things right for him. He did in the past, and he always would, as long as Bucky didn’t keep screwing things up. There was no reason for him to want Steve in any way, none. Bucky loved Alex. He wanted Alex and only Alex. That’s the way things were supposed to be, what he had worked to achieve. A place in Alex’s life. Was he really willing to throw it all away for a warm smile and a pair of gorgeous eyes? Yes, Steve made him feel good about himself. It was true that he felt safe with him. Sure, Steve’s lips were tempting. 

So tempting, in fact, it was difficult for Bucky not to wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own lips whenever he watched him talk. He couldn’t help but think about the lips that Steve had kissed in the past. How many? Steve had talked about loving the woman he had been with last. Were there others he loved? Were there kisses of lust? Drunken encounters? One night stands? What would he think of Bucky’s lips? Lips that had been touched by so many others, lips that had been in such dirty places, lips that had lied for years, lips that were so unworthy…

“Bucky!”

His head snapped to the side. John had the door open and was standing there waiting for him to get out of the car. They were back already. Bucky barely even remembered the ride. 

“Well?” John muttered. “Are you getting out or what?”  
“Yeah,” Bucky murmured as he fumbled to slide out. “Do you know where Alex is?”  
He could hear John scoff. “I’ve been with you all day, kid. How would I?”

Not bothering to look at him, Bucky rolled his eyes, his head shaking a little. While John may have been his escort, and Bucky could tell him what to do, when to do it, how to do it, he got no respect from him. Bucky barely even got any courtesy unless Alex was around. This is what made sense to him though. This he understood. 

What did Steve Rogers know? Nothing, that’s what. All his do-gooder attitude? His kindness? His virtue? They were for show. They had to be. No one could be that good. Steve was good company; good to be his friend while Alex was busy. That was all Bucky needed him for. He didn’t need his laugh or his smile or his teasing or his warmth. Bucky either needed to get this out of his system for good or to get Steve to break the illusion. All Bucky had to do was push the right button and eventually he’d get him to show his true colors. Bucky wouldn’t be the one hurt and disappointed. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d be prepared for whenever Steve finally showed him what he really was. 

Determined to prove to himself that he had what it took, that he was just as every bit as in control of his own life as Steve was of his, Bucky tore through the house searching for Alex. He went from room to room, ignoring the guards who gave him sideway glances and the workers who asked if he needed anything. One of the last places he checked was Alex’s main office. It was different than his private office. This room was bigger, with Alex’s desk at the north wall, but with several couches and comfortable chairs throughout it so that he could hold meetings there. The double doors were closed when Bucky reached it. 

He didn’t hesitate. If he did, he knew he’d never go in at all. Bucky pushed open both doors, gracefully entering the room as though he belonged there. Sure enough, there was Alex, sitting behind his desk, while a few other men adorned the other furniture in the room. As soon as Bucky came in the discussion ceased, dying off in just a few words. Alex looked at him, first surprised and then annoyed. 

“Not now,” He growled. 

For a split second Bucky almost listened. Listening to Alex was second nature, programmed into his instincts for so long that not listening made him feel wrong and strange. 

But this time, he didn’t listen. He ignored him completely, ignored the odd sensations the plagued him from doing so, and marched straight into the room. The irritation that pinched Alex’s face changed to outright anger with Bucky’s relentless and defiant approach, which then shifted to confusion when he was just in front of him. Bucky continued not paying attention to the pit in his stomach that told him there were going to be serious consequences for this. He needed this validation of his life more than he feared that, and he grabbed hold of Alex’s shirt to pull him in close. Giving Alex no chance to protest, Bucky’s mouth slammed into his. The momentum of his movements, the sheer fact of them being so unexpected, knocked them both back, and Alex was pressed up against the wall. 

This was something Bucky knew he was good at, something he never doubted in himself, even if he never let Alex see just how fully confident he was in it. He let his tongue run along Alex’s lips, waiting for his mouth to open so he could stick it inside. Alex almost pulled away, but Bucky latched his fingers through his hair to keep still as possible. With their bodies pressed so closely together, Bucky could feel Alex wave his arm behind him and then heard the rest of the people in the room leave. 

Once they were alone, Alex ran his hands down Bucky’s backside and pulled him in, thrusting his hips into Bucky’s at the same time and making them collide almost painfully. That made Bucky groan just slightly, just enough that his lips parted and Alex invaded his mouth with his tongue, officially taking control of the kiss. 

That’s not what Bucky had intended, not what he wanted. He had come here to take control, to take the lead. Just this once. Just to prove to Steve, to himself, that he could, that he was allowed that one little luxury. So he tried again, sucking just once on the tongue rolling around with his, and then closing his mouth to get rid of it. He kept his lips on Alex, their mouths moving, and brought his hands to the belt around Alex’s waist, slowly undoing it, as if he might not if he decided to change his mind. He could feel Alex grin against his mouth, and Bucky couldn’t help wonder what went through his mind. Before he could finish with the belt, though he had it completely unhooked, Alex pushed his hands away and ripped it out of the loops of his pants. 

Irritated by this little struggle for dominance- _-just this once, please, Alex, just once_ \--Bucky pulled Alex’s pants down and grabbed hold of him, stroking him, long, soft but firm strokes. If there was one thing Bucky knew he was good at, it was getting someone off. He knew he could take control, he knew could lead. He’d done it so many times in the past. If only Alex, the one person Bucky had never really tried to take the lead with, would concede for one brief experience, everything would be okay. 

Alex thrusted his hips in suit with Bucky’s stroking, letting out a quiet moan, and for one shining moment, Bucky thought he might actually get what he came here for. The moment dulled quickly, then suddenly, when Alex tore away from the kiss and Bucky realized that he’d somehow worked the belt he’d taken off around his arms. Alex pulled the end of the belt through the loop, tightening it around Bucky’s body and pinning his arms to his sides. He wrapped it once around his wrist to make it even tighter, so tight that Bucky could feel it digging into his skin. 

“Alex…” He groaned through his teeth. “Shit...”  
“Oh, my boy,” Alex reached out and tapped his cheek. “Did you really think you were going to win this little game?” He drawled. “You’re not even a player. But you wanted my attention, right? No matter how you went about getting it?” He pressed himself against the back of Bucky’s hand. “Now you have it.” Alex pulled down on the belt. “Get on your knees.”

It was all over. Bucky knew it the instant Alex started talking. He’d lost. There was never a game for him to play and Bucky let himself be guided down to his knees. Down there, he looked up at Alex, his eyes wide, half worried, half turned on, and waited. He needed Alex now. Needed him in any way he would give himself to him. He was greedy for him. 

“Open your mouth,” Alex instructed, not loosening his grip on the belt. 

Eyes still on him, Bucky eagerly did as he was told, first moistening his lips and then opening his jaw wide enough so when Alex, leaned comfortably against the wall, knotted his fingers through Bucky’s hair and yanked his head forward, he slipped right in. Bucky didn’t even have a say in that. No say in deciding how long his lips should stay on him, how far he could take him down his throat, how slow or fast--it was all on Alex. Fingers still coiled in his hair, tightening when he was in Bucky’s mouth, Alex pulled Bucky’s head back and forth, sometimes holding it so still with his hips thrust so far against him it cut off his breathing and made his eyes water. 

It went on like that for a while, longer than Alex usually lasted. Although, maybe that wasn’t completely true. Bucky just wasn’t used to being used liked this for so long. Normally, Alex enjoyed variety, not this, not using himself to choke Bucky, to gag him, until his jaw was sore, his teeth cutting into the insides of his lips, his neck achy and head spinning. Not once did Alex ever remove himself. Drool poured out of Bucky’s mouth and slobbered down his chin, staining his neck and shirt. Every time Alex pushed inside, more tears gathered in his eyes and spilled out. Bucky’s body, tense and stiff from being held up by the belt, trembled. 

A whimper escaped his throat when Alex thrust deep inside again, almost far enough to make him gag, but not just yet. When Bucky made that sound, like the soft cry of a lost animal, Alex paused. Not pulling himself out at all, Alex looked down at him, yanking up on the belt enough that it forced Bucky to straighten even more, but with Alex in his mouth like that, it was difficult and even more uncomfortable. He gagged and whined quietly, trying to cast his eyes upward. 

“Bit off a little more than you could chew, didn’t you, my boy?” He taunted. 

His voice sounded as though he didn’t have have himself shoved inside Bucky’s mouth. Despite the fact that his mouth was otherwise full, he knew damn well that Alex expected him to answer. 

It was gurgled and muffled and barely human, but with his lips still wrapped around Alex, Bucky managed to choke out a, “Yes,” 

Alex gave him an approving nod. “That’s what I thought.”

He made his grip in Bucky’s hair tighter still, pulled himself further into him a few more times, thrusting in rhythm as he did, until he exploded inside Bucky’s mouth. Since he wasn’t prepared for it, Bucky gagged, and some of it leaked out of the corners of his lips. When Alex finally pulled away, Bucky gasped for air, salvia and whatever was left of Alex dripping down between them. Giving Bucky no time to recover at all, Alex shoved him away, letting go of the belt at last. Still wrapped up, and having no strength to burst free, Bucky just toppled over. 

On his side, Bucky trembled and panted, sucking in quick gasps of breaths. Heart pounding, he wasn’t sure if the bulge in his pants was there the entire time or just appeared now. He wanted so badly to take care of that but didn’t have the energy to even put his hands between his legs. Alex--pants up, belt re-done, like nothing had happened--circled around him, clicking his tongue. He crouched down behind him and pet the top of his head. That touch, so soft and gentle, made him want to beg Alex if he would help him with the situation in his pants. 

“You’re a mess, Bucky.” He ridiculed. “I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

Bucky grimaced at his implications and glanced over his shoulder. He could feel the saliva and other secretions drying to his face. 

“Alex…” his voice was weak and raspy, and he lifted a shaky hand to him. 

But Alex flinched away from him. Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the pain that caused inside of him. 

“Don’t touch me,” He muttered. “You’re filthy.” Alex stood back up and hovered over him, glancing down with his head slightly tilted. “Who are you, Bucky?”

That made Bucky feel better. At least he was still willing to have this affectionate exchange with him. Bucky could feel his lips turn up in something of a feeble smile. 

“Your boy,” He answered, still unable to muster up any strength to his voice. 

Bucky’s heart fluttered as he waited for Alex’s normal response to that. But instead of his follow-up question, the one he always asked next, Alex placed his shoed foot on Bucky’s cheek and guided his face back down to the floor. 

“And you’ll make sure to god damn remember that,” He growled, applying enough pressure to his foot that Bucky shook a little. “I thought you were done testing your boundaries, but I guess I was wrong. You are _not_ the one in charge here, Bucky. You are _never_ the one in charge. Got that?”  
“Yes…” Bucky whimpered, his face squished under Alex’s weight. “I understand…”  
“Good,” Alex gave one last push down on Bucky before releasing him. He then held his hands out to help him sit up. “Now, get up, clean yourself off…” He gave him a smile, “And then meet me for dinner.”  
Bucky nodded. “Okay,”

Alex turned to leave the office and just at the door, he looked over his shoulder. Since Bucky had been watching him the entire time, he straightened up when he looked at him. 

“I love you, my boy.”  
He had to swallow the sharp lump in his throat before answering. “I love you, too, Alex.”


	20. I Don't Know What I'm Up To 'cause This Was Supposed to Be Part of the Previous Chapter But it was Long so I split it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter includes depictions of intense drug withdrawal.

Since Alex told him to clean up, Bucky had slunk off to go have a shower, doing what he could to keep himself unseen by any of Alex’s workers. He was a mess, and really didn’t want to have any of their eyes on him after Alex felt the need to reinforce his place in their relationship. He deserved that, to be used and then discarded the way Alex had done in there. What had he been thinking? Barging into his office and trying to take charge like that? Of course Alex would feel the need to remind him of his place. It didn’t matter how unloved or unwanted it made Bucky feel in the moment, Alex had a point to prove. And he proved it. Bucky understood. He forced Alex’s hand. It was his own fault. He had no one to blame for this washed out, worthless feeling but himself. 

Bucky had hoped that Alex would have stayed with him for just a few more minutes and help him with his own needs and desires. That would have defeated the purpose of Alex’s demonstration though, so Bucky was left to his own devices. He would take care of himself in the shower. 

He hurried upstairs, almost there, where he do what he needed to do. Unfortunately, there was one person that he couldn’t avoid when they happened down the same hall.

_Shit._

“Where are you running to?” Mr. Rumlow questioned, voice dark and taunting. 

Bucky pushed himself against the wall, hoping that he would just keep on going if he wasn’t in his way.

“No where,” He muttered. “I’m just going to shower.”

He just wanted to keep on going and would have if Mr. Rumlow didn’t slam his hand against the wall and keep him there. 

“Look at me, you little shit,” He growled. 

Bucky felt all the muscles in his face curl with defiance. He wanted nothing more than to just ignore him. Brock Rumlow wasn’t Alex. But he was still Mr. Rumlow...and Bucky had learned from his mistakes. 

His eyes lifted first, slowly followed by his chin. He could feel the fire in his eyes, knew it would be better for him to extinguish it, but couldn’t. Not that it mattered. Mr. Rumlow gave him the once over and then scoffed. 

“Look at you,” He mocked. “Not much has changed has it? Once a junkie, always a junkie.”

Wiping his face, knowing damn well that Mr. Rumlow could see all that had dried there, Bucky glowered at him. 

“I’m not a junkie, you stupid fuck.” He grumbled. 

The flash of anger that rippled across Mr. Rumlow’s face made Bucky regret mumbling the insult immediately. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouted.

It was too late for that though. Mr. Rumlow snagged him by the neck of the shirt and yanked him closer.

“What’d you call me?” He snarled, bringing his face right up to Bucky’s. “Say that _one_ more time.”  
“No,” Bucky said. “I told you, I’m sorry.”  
Mr. Rumlow slammed him up against the wall. “Say it _again_.”

After everything that had gone on today, ruining the afternoon with Steve, losing to Alex and needing to be taught again, and now having the back of his head bashed into the wall, Bucky found himself sniggering. 

“Which part?” He wondered. “The part where I said I was sorry? Or the part where I called you a stupid fuck?”

Mr. Rumlow’s eyes blazed and he punched Bucky in the gut, letting go of him the second his fist connected. Bent over, stomach across his belly, Bucky groaned with another snigger. 

“Losing your touch, Rumlow?” He asked. “Years catching up to you?”

Though his hands clenched to fists, Bucky knew he wouldn’t dare touch his face. That was off limits. There was an understanding between Alex and Rumlow, and Bucky knew that. Bucky was to respect him almost like he respected Alex, and if he didn’t, Rumlow was able to take care of it however he saw fit. It wasn’t that the two of them interacted. Despite the free reign Rumlow had over him, he didn’t like to be in Bucky’s company any more than Bucky liked to be in his. 

“I doubt it,” He hissed, and then chortled as he pulled something out of his pocket. “But even if they were catching up to me, if I wanted to be rid of you…” Rumlow showed him what he’d produced from his pocket. “Just have to tempt you a bit with this, don’t I?”

It was a little baggie, filled with white powder, and he dangled it out in front of Bucky. All traces of mockery dried up the instant his eyes landed upon the drugs. 

“No,” He whispered, backing up and only hitting back into the wall. “You keep that away from me.”  
“Oh, what’s the matter, hot shot? Can’t say no? Too good to resist?”  
Bucky shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

Stepping up closer to him, Rumlow rubbed the bag against Bucky’s cheek. Bucky squeezed his eyes closed as though that would get Rumlow and his temptations to disappear. 

“Yes you do,” He cooed. “You know damn well you do. How long has it been?”  
Bucky’s body trembled. “Seven years.”  
“Seven years since that last slip up, huh?” Rumlow leaned in over him, pressing his arm over Bucky’s head against the wall. His lowered his hand away from his cheek, bringing the drugs down and then shoved them into Bucky’s hand. “Think about it. How much do you miss it?”

Hand clenched around the baggie, Bucky swallowed the blade that cut against the inside of his throat. 

“No…” He whimpered. “No...I…”  
“Yes you do.” Rumlow taunted. “Of course you do. You can take some...right now. Feel like a god.”

Rumlow pushed away from him, leaving Bucky with the drugs. Hand shaking, Bucky opened it to look at them. His lips quivered and his stomach ached. 

“Wait!” His voice squeaked, and had lost all traces of any conceit. “Mr. Rumlow...please…” He held out his hand. “Please take this from me.”

Mr. Rumlow’s mouth curved up in a cruel sneer. 

“You can’t get rid of it yourself, can you?”  
Biting down on his lip, Bucky closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”  
Mr. Rumlow scoffed. “You dumb shit. You’re pathetic.” He stepped up to him again. “Isn’t that right?”

Lips set in a line, but so desperate to get rid of these drugs, Bucky knew he had no choice. He couldn’t get rid of them himself. If Mr. Rumlow didn’t take them…

“Yes.”  
“Yes what?”  
“I’m pathetic.”

His eyes popped open, tears in them when they did, when the drugs were snatched out of his hand.

“Fuck right you are.” He mocked. 

He stormed away then, leaving Bucky to stew in all that he’d just done. Bucky ran his hands over his face, pinching his nose closed and rubbing his eyes. His muscles were on fire, aching with the burning desire for the drugs that were just right in front of him. 

No. No that’s not what he needed. That’s not what he wanted. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be with Alex. He wanted to be friends with Steve. None of that was possible with that shit. And that’s all that it was...shit. 

“You don’t need it,” Bucky murmured. “You don’t need it. You don’t…”

He raced back to his bedroom, shed his clothes and hopped into the shower. That was what Alex had told him to do and that’s what he would get done. He had planned on masturbating in there, to fix the urge that had been building inside of him, to quiet the discomfort that washed through him when Alex left. He even tried. He pulled on himself, even got hard, but he couldn’t finish. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t. He even resorted to thinking of Steve and it didn’t work. There was too much on his mind, too much that Mr. Rumlow had brought up. 

_The past year had been hell. The first few weeks of it complete torture. Bucky had been put in a room with naught but a bed and access to a bathroom. The door was locked. Alex told him it was for his own good, that he’d be better soon, and it was only when he was better that Alex would be able to tell if he could be his boy or not. Bucky agreed. But that was before the first hour. After it, he slammed his hands against the door, twisting and pulling on the knob._

_“Please!” He screamed. “Let me out! Please! I need a bump! Just one more! Please just one more!”_

_Tears streamed down his face as he continued to plead for hours and hours and hours. He wanted to die. He needed to die. For someone to just come in and kill him. He begged for it, at the top of his lungs. Begged for someone to just fucking kill him._

_That was way before the itching started. It was all over his body, like thousands, millions of tiny bugs crawled all over his skin and no matter how hard he scratched, leaving marks and trails of blood along him as he did, he couldn’t relieve the infernal itch. He moved from the bed to the floor to the bed to the bathroom floor to the tub to the bed. Nothing was comfortable. Sweat poured out of his body. His tongue felt like sandpaper no matter how much water he slurped from the bathroom sink._

_Hours turned into days._

_Bucky had no idea how long he was there for. He slept and woke and it all started over again. He found food waiting for him sometimes and sometimes he ate it, sometimes he didn’t. Nausea rolled over him and he vomited, his body heaving in so many ways that it ached and hurt. He didn’t always make it in the toilet, but whenever he woke again the mess was cleaned._

_No matter how often he slept, he never felt like he did. Bucky was tired, so exhausted and weak he could barely move. Why wouldn’t someone just put him out of his misery? When he wasn’t pleading for drugs or pleading for someone to kill him, he would curl up under the bed and sob. He couldn’t do this. None of this would be worth it._

_Finally the door opened. Bucky’s head was pounding and his stomach hurt, but he sat up in the bed, the blanket pulled tightly around him since he was freezing now. It was someone he didn’t recognize and she had a tray of food. Behind her was Alex. Bucky ignored the woman as she came in and put the tray down next to him on the bed._

_“Please,” he begged Alex, the tears that had never really dried dripping from his eyes, along with snot from his nose. “Please can I have just a little?”_  
 _“No, Bucky,” Alex said softly, coming over to sit on the bed with him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that for you. But I can give you some food and…”_  
 _“No I don’t want food!” Bucky growled and flung the tray off the bed. “I don’t care about food!”_

_But Alex barely responded beyond moving his arm a little so that none of the food got on him._

_“Oh you will,” He said. “Give it a few more days.”_

_Alex got up, and the second he was at the door, Bucky threw himself on the floor to crawl over to him._

_“No, wait! Please...please don’t go…” He wrapped his arms around his legs and wept into his pants. “Please...don’t leave me here…”_  
 _“Shh,” Alex ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “It’s going to be okay, Bucky. I promise.”_

_Alex let him cry for a few minutes before dislodging himself from his meager grip. Since he felt so sick, so weak, so tired and cold, Bucky could do nothing to stop him._

_“Oh God, please…Alex…” He shook and wiped his face with the back of his hands. “Please I need some. I need something…”_  
 _“You need rest, Bucky. You need food and water. You need to work this out of your system. It’s only been six days. But you’re doing well.”_

_Without another word, Alex left Bucky all alone again. He crawled up to the door and leaned his brow against in, bawling into the emptiness._

_“Please come back,” He wept. “Please, Alex. Please, come back.”_

_Days turned into weeks._

_The only reason Bucky knew was because of the food trays coming and going. Some of it he was able to eat, some of it he couldn’t stomach. He never saw anyone. No one came to talk to him, no one came to see him. Nothing changed. Bucky wanted to die. He begged for his drugs. He crawled under the bed and sobbed. He punched holes in the wall. His head spun and pounded. His stomach turned and he would throw up. His body itched and ached. Some days he was sure the shadows on the walls were moving, coming to life and trying to kill him. Those days he spent screaming in terror. Still, no one came. Nothing got better._

_But Alex did come back. This time, he came by himself, with soup. Bucky had been sitting on the flood, up against the bed, shivering from head to toe._

_“Hello, Bucky,” Alex greeted._

_Bucky wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He thought he might throw up if he did. It didn’t appear to have offended Alex at all since he still entered with the food and took the blanket from off the bed to drape it around Bucky’s shoulders. Once it was tucked around him, Alex simply sat down next to him. He stirred the soup around with the metal spoon. It made a sound as it scraped against the bowl and it hurt Bucky’s head. Alex scooped some of the food up, blew it off--the steam swirling around in the air--and held it out to Bucky. Bucky just stared at it. Or out into space. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at._

_“Open up, Bucky,” He said. “You need to eat.”_

_Lips quivering, and tears falling again, Bucky somehow forced his head--it bobbed a bit back and forth--to move to look at him. He wanted to argue with him, wanted to knock the spoon out of his hand. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. A few hours ago he did. A few hours ago he was pacing around, slamming his hands against the door and demanding to be released. Now, his eyes lowered to the food and he opened his mouth. Alex fed him the first bite._

_“There you go.” He murmured softly and then fed him some more._

_Alex stayed with him the whole time he had the food, until the bowl was empty. Whenever some of it dribbled down Bucky’s chin, he would take the napkin and wipe it away for him. Once it was all gone, Alex picked himself up and started to leave again._

_Letting out one barely audible whimper, Bucky managed to take hold of the end of Alex’s pants. He didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. All he did was stare straight ahead._

_“Let go, Bucky,” Alex told him. “I need to leave now.”_

_His eyes closed and Bucky did what he was told to do. As soon as Alex had his hand wrapped around the doorknob Bucky pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Head buried in his arms, he just let the tears fall silently._

_“Please…” He whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”_

_When he felt the hand on his head, his first thought was to move away. Someone was trying to hurt him. Bucky knew who it was. **He** found him. **He** was going to hit him, beat him, use his fists or his belt, whatever he felt like. The scent of scotch floated around Bucky’s nostrils and he cringed away._

_“No!” He yelled. “Don’t touch me!”_

_But it wasn’t who he thought it was. Bucky looked up to see Alex there, his face smooth and relaxed as though Bucky hadn’t just reacted violently to a simple touch. After a few moments, the sobbing started again. Only this time, instead of leaving, Alex sat back down and wrapped his arms around him._

_“Please,” He wept. “Please, Alex, I can’t do this. It hurts. Everything hurts.”_  
 _“I know, Bucky,” He comforted. “I know. But you’ll get better.”_  
 _“Please, don’t leave me, please stay with me…”_  
 _“Okay,” Alex rubbed his hand up and down his back. “I’ll stay for a little while.”_

_Bucky trembled in his arms and wailed into his shirt. He clung onto him like he was afraid he would disappear if he didn’t. Alex let him just cry and cry and cry and then yell and moan and cry some more, all while in his arms. After some time, Bucky felt his eyes getting heavy and found himself being lifted up. Alex tucked him into the bed._

_“Get some sleep,” He told him, brushing the hair away from his face. “You need to rest. Things will get better. I promise.”_  
 _Bucky pulled the blanket up to his chin, wiped his nose and nodded. “Okay, Alex.”_

_One half of Alex’s mouth turned up in a small grin, his eyes holding Bucky’s for several heartbeats._

_“That’s my boy,” He said._

_Weeks turned into months._

_Alex’s visits became more frequent after that. The room felt like it was getting smaller around him, and yet, at the same time, it got bigger. Bucky was able to move about it like a human being, more on two feet and not all fours like he had been doing most of the time when he first got there. Though Bucky felt like he wasn’t improving at all, Alex assured him he was. The food he was given stayed down more often, he was able to sleep more consistently and he wasn’t plagued with constant anxiety._

_Every visit from Alex was heaven. Whenever he showed up, no matter how Bucky was feeling, whether he wanted to die or rip something apart, Alex’s appearance made him calm, made him smile. If he brought him food and Bucky was feeling ill, Alex would allow him to just sit there and he would feed him. Days when he needed to cry, Alex would hold him and let him cry. Those times Bucky couldn’t resist the urge to beg him for his drugs, Alex would patiently listen to his pleading and never give in. Sometimes he would shake with fear, completely convinced that someone was after him. After a few times of this happening, Bucky finally admitted who he was so terrified of and Alex assured him that he would never find him there. When Bucky didn’t believe him, Alex wrapped him in his arms and held him in a protective cage. After a while, when Bucky didn’t feel like his mind was lost somewhere in oblivion, he would talk to Alex. Sometimes they would talk for hours and hours._

_Bucky told him about the dreams he was having, ones he didn’t understand. They were of him using the drugs and waking as though he had actually had them in his system. These dreams scared him. He thought someone was coming in and drugging him. But Alex assured him this was not the case._

_“They’re called user dreams, Bucky,” He explained. “It’s very common.”_

_Bucky started to cry._

_“I don’t like them, Alex,” He wept. “They make me want to use even more.”_  
 _Alex hugged him. “I know, my boy, but you just keep talking to me about them and we’ll get through this. I’ll come up with a way to help you with them.”_

_Alex amazed him. Not only did he show him different meditations and mantras that actually started to help with his user dreams--they didn’t cure them, but they helped in addition to talking in great detail about them with Alex--but he had been all over the world, to countries he’d never even heard of and spoke four different language. He knew about art and opera and ballet and baseball and world history and everything that Bucky could imagine. Everything about him was fascinating. Bucky couldn’t understand what he wanted with riffraff like him._

_Bucky started sleeping in his bed more regularly. Those infernal chills that woke him up seemed to have disappeared so he was able to sleep through the night. Nausea left. Three meals a day became normal. His head didn’t hurt everyday and his body felt so much more relaxed. When he woke up in the morning, he even stretched, feeling nice and refreshed. Since Bucky was beginning to function on a more normal routine, Alex had a television sent in for him. When he came in for his next visit a few days later, Bucky asked if he could have some books as well. The days were long and boring in the room, so Bucky soaked up as much entertainment as he could get. Then, one day, out of the clear blue, Alex opened the door and stepped to the side._

_“Come on, Bucky,” He instructed._  
 _Having still been in bed, Bucky lifted his head and just looked at him. “What?”_  
 _“It’s time to go.”_  
 _“Go?”_  
 _“It’s been seven months, Bucky. It’s time to try leaving here and coming out into the house.”_  
 _Bucky beamed with a smile. “You...you mean you want me with you? Out there?”_  
 _“That’s right,” Alex returned the smile. “I think you’re ready to join me.”_  
 _“Oh, Alex! I won’t let you down!” He swore, hopping out of the bed and hurrying over to him. “I promise!”_  
 _Alex chuckled. “Let’s hope so. Come on,” He put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “I’ll show you around.”_  
 _The house was the biggest place that Bucky had ever been in. There were so many rooms, so many halls, bathrooms, outdoor spaces that Bucky still couldn’t believe he was there. When Alex showed him the bedroom that was to be his, Bucky couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He had hoped he’d be sharing a room with Alex._

_“Not yet,” Alex told him. “Only for specific reason or special occasion. Besides,” He glanced down at him, “I told you, not until you’re eighteen. It’s not even a year away…”_  
 _“What? What do you mean?”_  
 _“It’s August, Bucky,” He explained. “You do know that, right?”_

_Bucky’s stomach fell. His birthday was in March--five month ago. He’d missed it while he was in that room, rotting away in his own anguish and filth. He was seventeen._

_“I’m sorry,” Alex sighed. “I should have said something that day.”_  
 _“No!” Bucky exclaimed, feeling guilty that Alex felt bad at all. “It’s okay. I understand.”_  
 _Alex cupped his chin. “You’re such a good boy.”_  
 _“Thank you,” Bucky smiled, not wanting to disappoint him in any way._

_He hadn’t felt this good, this...normal, in years and that was because of Alex. There was no way he was going to lose this._

***

_Over the next three months, Bucky paid very close attention to everything Alex told him. He listened to the things he liked, all the details, all his schedules, and adapted his life to fit that. It pleased Alex. And Bucky so wanted to please the man who had saved him. Alex took him almost everywhere he went. When he was on business, and Bucky accompanied, he went as he assistant. He would fetch him coffee--milk with two sugars--fax documents, order him food--he already knew what he liked from all the restaurants--make photo copies and do whatever else Alex needed him to do. When he wasn’t working, Alex took him to all different places. They went to the finest restaurants and ate the rarest delicacies, saw plays and operas and ballets--and always had private box seats--went to art exhibits before anyone else. Alex took him to sporting events, normal games, playoff games and championship games, and they always had seats in the suites with waiter service and a lounge and access to anything they wanted. Bucky dressed in designer clothes, clothes he never would have dreamed of owning. Alex gave him all the latest electronics and gadgets and devices and they would play videos games together. They went swimming, both in the pool and at the private beach on Alex’s property. Since he loved to read, Alex had Bucky read out loud to him. It was one of his favorite things to do since Alex claimed to love the sound of his voice._

_While he went out of his way to learn all of Alex’s likes and dislikes, his preferences and routines, Bucky also began to pick up his mannerisms and traits. After spending nearly every waking moment of everyday with the man it was almost second nature to feel just as important and as in charge as Alex. Pretty soon, he was ordering the staff around. The swagger he’d adopted on the streets and the confidence he had earned growing up both swelled. Since Alex did nothing to correct this, Bucky didn’t feel the need to stop. In fact, Alex seemed to derive amusement from it, as long as Bucky didn’t overstep his bounds with him._

_It happened, from time to time, Bucky would push to see what he could get away with. An attitude, an attempt to stay up later than he was told, trying to manipulate Alex into saying yes when he had already firmly said no about something. Whatever he tried, it was met with consequences. When this first happened, Bucky felt himself angry and bitter at Alex._

_“You don’t need to give up your electronics for the week,” Alex told him after he complained about it._  
 _“I...I don’t?”_  
 _Alex shook his head. “No.” He pointed. “There’s the door. You can leave. No hard feelings. Just don’t think you can ever come back.”_

_Nausea crawled all over him. He had just recently stopped having user dreams. He had just started thinking that being with Alex was the most wonderful thing in the world. He had just begun wondering if Alex was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with._

_“You...you want me to leave?” He whispered, hearing the heartbreak of his own voice._  
 _Alex reached out to caress his cheek. “I do not. But if you insist on making me angry with you and keep on disappointing me, I don’t think I’ll have a choice. You didn’t have permission to go to the beach. You know you do not have permission to leave the property without me.”_  
 _“The beach **is** on the property.”_  
 _“You’re being a smartass, Bucky.”_  
 _“Sorry.”_  
 _Alex sighed. “You did something wrong, James.” Bucky’s stomach twisted. That was the first time he could recall Alex calling him that. “And when you do something wrong, you need to pay the price. But if you really don’t want to pay the price that I’m setting, you’re free to leave. If, however, you do choose to pay, keep in mind when you’re sulking that you’re the one making me do this. Who broke the rule?”_  
 _Bucky swallowed hard. “I did.”_  
 _“So who’s fault is it that you’re being punished?”_  
 _“Mine.” he whispered._  
 _“That’s right. Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I like to be like this? Because I don’t. You’re my boy, Bucky. Do you know what I want for my boy?” Bucky shook his head. “I want for him to be happy. I can’t make him happy when he hurts me like this.”_  
 _Lowering his head, Bucky felt a round of tears push at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Alex.”_  
 _“I’m glad,” He said. “But sorry is just a word. If you need to learn a lesson, I’ll have to teach you. Now what’s it going to be? Do you accept your consequence? Or do you want to leave?”_

_Bucky had attempted to keep the tears in, but they gathered in the corners and some just wouldn’t cooperate._

_“Please don’t make me leave, Alex,” His voice cracked. “I’ll take the punishment. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”_  
 _“I know, my boy, I know,” He said. “You’ll learn your lesson and it’ll be over.”_

_That was just the first of many lessons Bucky would be forced to learn. One of the worst would come after thirteen months of sobriety. Thirteen months of being clean. Thirteen months of making Alex proud. So proud, in fact, he let him go out on his own._

_It was Alex’s offer, and after being either all alone or with only Alex for over a year, Bucky was all too excited to have the chance at an evening to go out._

_“You trust me with this?” He asked Alex._  
 _“I do,” He told him. “You’ve proven yourself, Bucky. You’ll be eighteen next month. I trust you.”_

_Bucky spiffed himself up, choosing a nice suit so he’d look good in the fancy place he’d be going to and styling his hair differently, putting cologne on, adding a the new watch Alex had gotten as a gift for him after a year of sobriety. He was going to have Rumlow drop him off. If there was anyone he liked bossing around the most, it was Rumlow. After the way he’d been treated like dirt under the man’s boot, Bucky did whatever he could to make Rumlow feel inferior to him. He sent him on errands, had him bring him up food, even had him draw baths from him. Not that serving Bucky was even remotely in his job description. Brock Rumlow was part of Alex’s security department. Still, ever since Bucky had come out of the room sober and healthy, he seemed to revolve more around making sure Bucky was comfortable. Not that Bucky had a problem with that. He took the chance to gloat anytime he could. Like that night, when he had him drop him off and waited in the back of the car for him to open the door just like he had to do for Alex._

_“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Rumlow told him, his tone rough and unconcerned with his well-being. “Good luck, you shit.”_

_Rumlow was already back in the car and drove off. Bucky didn’t care. He was on top of the world, had everything he needed. The restaurant, which doubled as a nightclub, was expecting him and so the hostess greeted him by name and the wait staff treated him as though Alex was there with him. After his meal, Bucky wandered on to the dance floor where he flirted with everyone, made anyone he could blush, had everyone laughing, gave out his number to anyone who asked--which was half of whom he met--and ended up making out with a pretty brunette in a red dress. He was having a grand time until someone slapped a hand on his shoulder._

_“Hello, Bucky.”_

_Bucky’s grin faded at the sound of that voice. He turned to see his old dealer, Niko, leaning up against the wall._

_“What are you doing here?” He asked. “This...this isn’t your sort of place.”_  
 _He shrugged. “Let’s just stay opportunity knocked. I’m moving up in the world.”_  
 _“Well, me too.”_  
 _“I see that. You’re doing well for yourself.”_  
 _Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I have to…”_

_He tried to leave, he really did, but Niko took hold of his arm. It was easy to pull free, and Bucky did, but Niko had a baggie held out in front of him._

_“How bout a bump for old time’s sake?”_

_Saliva pooled in Bucky’s mouth. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until it was right in front of him again._

_“No,” He murmured. “I can’t…”_  
 _“Sure you can. Just one? It’s on me.”_  
 _One? Just one? One. Just one…_

“Just one.” Bucky murmured, leaning his brow against the wall of the shower, the steamy water running down his body. “That’s how it starts, you dumb shit. Always with just one.”  
“Bucky, are you all right?”  
Startled, he straightened up and stuck his head out the shower door. “Yeah.” He sniffed. “Yes, Alex, I’m fine.”  
“You’ve been in here for almost forty-five minutes, my boy.” he said. “Dinner’s ready.”  
“Oh…” He looked around as though he’d somehow see some indication of the time going by. “I didn’t realize…”

Bucky trailed off when the corners of Alex’s mouth twitched in a sly grin and he stepped forward. He pulled the door opened all the way and just stared at Bucky’s naked body, dripping with hot water. 

“Mmm,” He hummed. “You look delicious, my boy. Why have dinner when I can just have you?”

Normally, a statement like that would have Bucky’s stomach filled with butterflies, his cheeks flushing with excitement and his teeth biting down his lip. Right now though, something was keeping him from reacting correctly. _Just one._ So he forced it. He forced a giddy smile and combed his fingers through his sopping hair, making water splash off of him. Some droplets got Alex in the face, and that made Bucky chuckle. 

_Just one._

“Oh, you think you’re funny, do you?” Alex sniggered and, surprising Bucky to the point of gasping, stepped into the shower with him, clothes and all. He grabbed the shower head off the wall and sprayed it right at Bucky’s face. “Laughing now, my boy?”

Bucky was laughing. Laughing hard and long as he tried to keep the water out of his mouth and nose. 

_Just one._

“Alex!” He cracked up. “Alex!”

He lowered the shower for a moment, allowing Bucky the chance to catch his breath and then raised it back up again. 

“Wha...Alex!” Bucky laughed, spitting the water out of his mouth. “Stop it!”

Snickering, Alex reached behind himself and turned the water off. Bucky wiped his face off as Alex stepped out of the shower and tossed him a towel. 

_Just one._

“Dry off, my boy,” He said, that playful smile still on his face. “And...stay like that. I’ll get changed and have dinner brought up to us.”

Bucky did just that. He pat himself dry with the towel and when there was a knock at the door to his room he just told them to come in. A few of the house workers hustled in with a small, round table and two chairs. _Just one._ They set it up with a tablecloth and even a vase centerpiece with a single rose. The others carried in their food on trays--the plates covered with silver lids--while another wheeled in a bucket of ice with a bottle of chilled wine, two glasses in it as well. No one paid any attention to the fact that Bucky was naked. It wasn’t like they’d never seen him in the nude before. 

_Just one._

Alex was back just as they finished up and Bucky waited until he was seated to sit down across from him. One person had stayed behind just so they could remove the lids to their food--pink salmon and rice--and then they were alone. Bucky loved when Alex had him sit around naked while he stayed dressed. Even if he was feeling all out of sorts. _Just one._ It was fun to feel exposed and vulnerable to the man who had saved him, the man who continued to save him from himself. 

The two of them made fun conversation during their supper. About old times and silly things they had done together. _Just one._ But Bucky still couldn’t shake the strange sensation from his body, his heart, his mind. There was something running through him and he couldn’t figure out what it was. He still felt sour about having to be taught that lesson, but that couldn’t have been it. He deserved that. _Just one_. Bucky just sat there with Alex, trying to seem normal, when he felt the furthest from it. Laughter still came naturally when Alex said something funny, smiles still pulled up when he complimented him, blushes still filled his cheeks when he gave him some small form of admiration. 

_Just one._

They spent the rest evening together, just the two of them. There were video games and Bucky reading aloud to Alex and-- _just one_ \--and Alex attempting to teach Bucky some more Russian. It was something he had started doing a few years ago, and Bucky did have a bit of a knack for it. Their lessons had never really been consistent enough for him to become very good at it though. 

A little after eleven o’clock, Alex decided it was time for them to go to bed. Bucky couldn’t help but pout at that. He didn’t want to go to bed. Still feeling strangely unsettled, he wanted to continue spending time with Alex so he could keep in mind occupied and not have to worry about it. _Just one._ But after what he’d pulled this afternoon, he knew better than to test Alex’s patience. Alex pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around him, and kissed him goodnight before leaving for his own room. 

_Just one._

Once he was alone, Bucky’s body seemed to spring to life. He paced back and forth, and even started to sweat a little. What the hell was going on? Skin pricking with an itch, Bucky halted in the middle of his pacing. 

“Just one…” He murmured. “No...no, no, no.” 

That’s not what this was. It couldn’t be. No way did Mr. Rumlow’s temptations affect him so deeply. Bucky lowered himself to the very edge of the bed and dropped his head in his hands. He trembled slightly as he tried to get ahold of himself. 

Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, burning with a desire it wasn’t meant to have. Bucky sprang up and made his way to Alex’s bedroom. Being alone right now was a mistake. When he got there, Bucky found the door open. 

“Alex?” He called softly.

Alex was in pajamas already and had just put a pill in his mouth, swallowing it with water. He turned his head to look at him. 

_Just one._

“What’s wrong, Bucky? I told you it was bedtime.”

Bucky was fiddling with his fingers. He couldn’t sit still. 

“Can...Can I sleep with you tonight?”  
He took in a deep breath and twisted his lips. “I just took a valium. I’m not going to be much company.”

_Just one._

“I don’t care,” Bucky blurted, and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “I can’t be alone.”  
Alex’s face darkened. “Are you okay?”

Bucky was sure he should tell him. Not why it was happening, but that he was having the most intense craving he’d had in a long time. 

_Just one._  
 _Just one._  
 _Just one._

“Yes.” He lied. 

Alex gave him the once over, but opened his arms to invite Bucky into the room. Bucky flew into them and held his breath so that he wouldn’t shake. 

“Come on, my boy,” He murmured. “Let’s go to sleep.”  
“Thank you, Alex.”

 

_Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one. Just one._

Bucky laid awake for hours, way after Alex had rolled over and was fast asleep. He had held him close until he was sleeping, which kept Bucky calm for a bit, but once he was gone, Bucky felt like his brain was on fire. 

_Just one._

He couldn’t shake it. No matter how many time he went over and over the things he would lose--seven years clean, Alex, Steve, his life--it wouldn’t go away. Bucky chewed on his fingers, he shook his limbs out, he...He couldn’t take it. 

_Just one. That’s it. Just one. Just one. One. That’s all. He could do it. Just one._

He went back to his room and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Then he threw on a hoodie and flipped the hood up. He hadn’t done this in a long time, but he was sure nothing had changed. Sneaking out was pretty simple, especially at night. All he had to do was go down the back staircase, slip into the kitchen, go through the garage window and climb over the gate. There was a blind spot between two of the cameras facing the rear of the house. Once he was over, and in the darkness, Bucky was clear. 

It took about thirty minutes to get to any main roads and when he did, he pulled out his phone to call someone.

“Pick up.” He murmured as it rang. “Pick up, pick up, pick…”  
“Yeah?”  
“Niko? It’s Bucky.”


	21. 21 Jump Street

It wasn’t hard for Steve to figure out why the FBI was investigating Pierce. He was starting to branch out of the city, his power stretching to other cities, even crossing state lines. By his bank statements alone, Steve had been able to tell which politicians were in his pockets and which he would be aiming for next. If things continued, it wouldn’t be too long before Pierce had the entire country under his thumb. The video footage showed the exchanging of documents and money, and some audio files Steve listened to were of phone calls confirming money transfers and shipping dates. None of it alone was incriminating, but put together, in the right way and by the right people, these files may have been enough to get Pierce behind bars. 

Steve understood why Fury had given him the files though. Even if the FBI did do things correctly, no one knew Pierce like they and their department did. Pierce would find a way out. Someone would take the fall. He was too clever, too connected, and too wealthy for anyone to touch without stooping to his level. Steve knew they needed to get dirty to take him down and, lately, the thought of that was getting easier and easier. 

Once he was finished going through everything on his own, Steve shared it all with his team. He knew that was a risk, to get them this involved already, but he also knew he was nothing without his team. They had all convened at his place after visiting Clint, who refused to be left out of the meeting. 

“Video chat,” He grunted as they left and he set up his tablet. “This is what I’ve been reduced to.”  
Natasha scoffed. “You blew yourself up, Barton.”  
“And Banner put me back together again,” He grumbled. “Don’t know why I’m still in here.”  
“Because you blew yourself up, Clint,” Steve chuckled. “Your invincibility card must have expired.”  
“Heal up,” Sam added. “Then maybe you won’t miss the action.”  
“Miss the action,” Clint mumbled as he continued fiddling with the tablet. “I’ll show you miss the action.”

They had left then, and were sure to connect with Clint the second they were set up in Steve’s living room. Steve had hoped that Sharon and Maria would be available for this as well, but it seemed that Fury had them on a special assignment. He hadn’t told them anything yet, too nervous to do so at the hospital in fear of listening ears. 

When he finished showing them what he had thought to be all pertinent information--it would have taken hours to show them everything on the drive--they all exchanged glances. Even Clint just stared through the monitor. 

“We can’t let them do this,” Sam was the first to speak. “If they mess it up...they don’t know Pierce like we do.”  
“I know,” Steve agreed.  
“And when Pierce gets away again,” Natasha added, “Then the whole country will see how untouchable he is. No one will want to get involved.”  
“We can’t stop them either,” Clint chimed in. “Now that he’s crossing state lines? The FBI can do what they want. They have the jurisdiction.”  
“Then we gotta get him first,” Natasha decided. “Take him down before they make their move and he gets what he wants.”  
“How?” Sam wondered. “How do we do that and keep clean?”  
“We don’t,” Steve declared, and ignored the shocked looks they gave him. “Pierce has left us no other choice. Either we do nothing or we set him up.”

Natasha gave a flick of her chin, like she was completely on board with the idea without even discussing it. From the laptop, Steve heard Clint take in a deep breath and let it out a lot louder than necessary. 

“Hell, I’ll sleep a lot better at night.” He stated. 

The only one who didn’t seem to agree completely was Sam. 

“You’re not okay with this, Sam?” Steve asked. “If you’re not, you don’t need to be a part of it.”  
“It’s not that _I’m_ not okay with it, Steve,” He sighed. “I just want to make sure that _you’re_ really okay with it. You have a reputation to uphold. If people find out…”  
“I don’t care about that,” Steve interrupted. “I care about doing the right thing. And right now, doing the right thing means doing whatever we have to do to get rid of Alexander Pierce. Let the people think what they want to.”

That got Sam to grin, but more than that, it looked as though he was seeing Steve again for the first time. Like there was some sort of admiration to his smile. Steve scratched the back of his head. 

“You know me, Rogers,” He finally said. “I go where you go.”  
“Uh, question!” Clint blurted, hand up like he was in school. “How do we do this, ya know, _before_ the FBI invades our terf?”   
Natasha nodded. “He’s right. How the hell are we gonna know when they’re planning to make their move? If someone,” By someone, she meant Pierce, “forced Fury to make you take vacation and gave you this stuff, Steve, they must be getting ready to do it soon.”  
“Yeah, I have an idea about that,” Steve told them. “It’s a long shot, but…”

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. It’d been awhile since they’d last spoken, but he was pretty sure he could count on him. That didn’t mean Steve wasn’t anxiously drumming his fingers as he waited for an answer. 

“Special Agent Rhodes,” He picked up. 

Steve smiled, regardless of the outcome of this call, it was still good to hear his old friend’s voice. 

“Hey, Rhodey,” He greeted. “It’s Steve.”  
“Steve!” Rhodey laughed. “Son of a gun, I haven’t heard from you in months! What’s going on? Everything good?”

Steve had met Rhodey back during his rookie year on the force. Rhodey had been called in to do some consulting work on a case they were working on and he had taken a special interest in Steve, said he had an eye for detail and a natural intuition. He was a brilliant man, who had studied aerospace engineering in college--giving Steve the chance to say he was friends with a rocket scientist--and cared more about justice than bettering his career. 

“Not gonna lie, Rhodey,” Steve admitted. “I could be better.”  
“What’s wrong, Steve?” He asked. “What’s going on?”  
Steve inhaled deeply and just said on thing. “Alexander Pierce.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Long enough that Steve would have thought Rhodey hung up if the call hadn’t disconnected. 

“What about him?” He finally asked.   
“I need you to do me a solid,” Steve requested softly. “I need to know when you’re making your move for him.”  
“Oh is that all?” Rhodey scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can’t give you that information, Steve.”  
“I need it, Rhodey,” he insisted. “If you ever want this to actually happen, if you want Pierce behind bars, I need to know.”  
It was quiet again, until he heard Rhodey let out a soft sigh. “I’ll let you know when I know. And, hey, Steve?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Next time you call, how about you just ask to go out for a beer?”  
“No problem. Thank you, Rhodey.”  
“I got my faith in you, Steve.”

Rhodey ended the call and Steve felt a shiver run through him. He couldn’t fail. Not now. He turned and gave the others a thumbs up. They all let out their own sort of relieved sighs. 

“We’re gonna get him this time,” Sam stated. “I can feel it.”  
“We have to,” Steve said, more to himself than anyone else. “We _have_ to get him this time.”

Steve wasn’t sure, but he thought the team may have looked at him a little intensely when he made his statement. 

They had stayed a while longer, sharing a few drinks and letting themselves get caught up in a few hours of happiness. There was chatting and joking and jabs taken at one another. At one point, when Clint started to say something in regards to the conversation going on, Steve reached forward and closed the top of the laptop. When they re-opened it a moment later, they found Clint flipping off the camera. 

It was a little before midnight when they called it an evening. Since only Steve was forced on vacation, Sam and Natasha had to work in the morning. Clint had already passed out with the tablet still on, so his soft snores would have continued pumping through the computer’s speakers if Steve hadn’t shut it down. Steve was straightening up, putting the beer bottles in the sink when he caught a glimpse of one of the newspapers from earlier in the week. There was another story about him in it, about what happened down at the docks.

He sighed, took it out and sat down at the kitchen table. Thumbing through the paper, he skimmed the article again. Hero cop once again saves the day it said. Hero cop. It made Steve’s stomach tight. There was so many other stories printed up like this one. 

Sure, Steve had lead his team to take down lots of small time gangs. Together, they’d raided drug houses and helped sex-workers get out from under abusive tyrants. They had cleaned up a few neighborhoods, starting up youth centers and making sure local gangs stayed clear of the kids. More recently, they popped a few stronger bosses on a lot more than just tax evasion. Along with all the news articles and tv spots and radio broadcasts, Steve and his team had received several medals of honor. He had them stored in one of his drawers. 

What he said to Sam about not caring what the people thought was true enough, but it did bother him that they thought these things. Steve Rogers, the one in the papers, was painted a hero--a beacon of hope in their city. He was on a pedestal, ready to be ripped apart at the slightest mistake. It was like he wasn’t free to be human. He was just man, not a hero. All he wanted to do was what he thought was right. 

Steve Rogers, the Heart of the City--that’s what they called him. It was quite a lot of pressure to live up to. Not that Steve wasn’t willing. He gave the people hope, got them going again, kept them from joining people like Pierce. He’d even been asked for an autograph or two. 

There was a lot riding on this one though. If he failed, if Steve couldn’t get Pierce in jail, he’d let everyone down. Worst of all, he’d let Bucky down. One person. That’s what all this was about now, saving just one person. The fear of failing him was too overwhelming, so overwhelming that Steve just didn’t think about it. But he just couldn’t fail him. He was way too invested in that smile, in that laugh.

Steve groaned and leaned his head back. This was all about Bucky. This had become personal. That was bad. That was very bad. There was no turning back now. He needed to see this through to the end. 

***

It was the noise that woke him. Steve had gone to bed just before one in the morning and now it was after three and there was a loud noise that jostled him awake. He sat up in bed, taking just a second to realize that someone was pounding on his front door. Reaching for the gun on his nightstand, he grabbed hold of it and cautiously made his way into the living room still wearing only a t-shirt and his boxers. Steve reached for the light switch, but decided it was best to keep the inside lights off. He knew the layout of his home. If this was an attack, he’d have the advantage in the dark. He reached the door and tried to unlock it as quietly as possible, and given all the banging, there was a good chance whoever was out there didn’t hear it. Steve opened it a crack and immediately lowered his weapon, his entire guard dropping. 

“Bucky?”

He stepped aside and Bucky dashed in, almost crashing into the rocking chair in the middle of the living room. Steve flipped the lights on and watched Bucky from behind. He was just standing there, in a beaten up sweatsuit, hood up, shaking, or, more like twitching. Taking a step closer to him, Steve almost put his hand on his shoulder but decided against it.

“Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up. He appeared startled to see Steve there, and then glanced around like he wasn’t sure where he was. When he flipped his gaze back to him, Steve saw how haunted Bucky looked. His skin was ghostly white, sweat glistening in the soft glow of lit room. He kept licking his lips as though he thought there was something there he needed to lick off. And his eyes, they were pulled open wide and were bloodshot, like he’d either been crying really long and hard or…

“Steve…” He sucked in a shaky breath, and started panicking. “Steve, I need your help. I did something...I did something bad. I did something very bad.”

Steve straightened up, keeping himself calm and collected. He was already pretty sure he knew what was happening. 

“What did you do, Bucky?” He asked, voice firm and almost hard. 

His eyes wandered back and forth, and Bucky started nibbling at the ends of his fingers. 

“I didn’t...it was an accident...no, it wasn’t my fault. I swear to God it wasn’t my fault.”

A couple of tears slid down his cheeks, but they dried up right away. Steve wasn’t going to get anywhere this way. Bucky was much too panicked to be coherent. He grabbed him by the shoulders to hold him still. 

“What did you _do_ , Bucky?” He growled. “Tell me.”

Like he’d started him, Bucky cringed away. When he gathered up the nerve to look back at Steve, he had yet to let go of his shoulders, he just shook his head. Shame and regret, fear and doubt, shrouded his face. Bucky wasn’t going to tell him. Steve pushed his tongue under his bottom lip, smacking his lips together, and then nodded once. 

“You’re not going to tell me?”

Bucky lowered his head. From within in grip, Steve could feel his entire body tensing up. His lips were trembling and he swallowed hard, but he still shook his head. 

“Bucky, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

When Bucky lifted his head, there were tears in his eyes. He looked so desperate and lost, and Steve wished he could just pull him into his arms and make all his troubles disappear that way. 

“It’s in my pocket.” He whispered.

The moment the words escaped his mouth, his entire face crumpled. It was like he was going to fall apart. 

“What’s in your pocket, Bucky?”

He sucked in several jagged breaths, and opened his mouth a few times but wouldn’t answer. His head just shook, like he was too ashamed to come out and say it. Steve pulled in hard breath. 

“Okay then.” 

Every muscle in his body protested doing this, but it was all Steve could think to do. He spun Bucky around, took a tight grasp on his shoulders and shoved him into the kitchen. There, he slammed him into the table and kicked his legs apart. It was clear that he’d been through something like this before. The second Bucky’s hands landed on the top of the table he started shaking again, but let Steve start to search his body like he was a criminal. 

“Do you have any weapons on you, Bucky?” He asked, the same he would if they were on the streets and he didn’t know him. “Anything that I can hurt myself on?”

Bucky sniffled, his head lowered and dropped like it was too heavy to hold up, and Steve closed his eyes when he saw the tears landing on the table, but he didn’t stop. 

“No,” He whimpered with another small shake of his head. 

Steve started to pat him down, beginning with his hood and then making his way to his lower body. As he got to his waist, Bucky went rigid and started to cry more. It only took a second for Steve to know why. The second his hand tapped his left pocket, he felt something in there. 

“Is that what I’m looking for?”  
Bucky’s face scrunched up, but he managed to nod. “Yes.”

Sticking his hand into Bucky’s pocket, Steve knew what it was before he even pulled it out. He looked at it for just a second, his body on fire with anger or disappointment or something he couldn’t recognize, and then tossed the drugs onto the table. 

“Do you have any more on you?”  
“No.”

Steve pulled out the chair the Bucky was standing next to. 

“Sit down, Bucky.” 

He did as he was told, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. 

“Have you had any?” Steve asked. “Did you take any of this?”

Bucky cringed and flinched and grimaced all in one movement. He let out a sob, and Steve so badly wanted to scoop him into his arms. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” He started to mumble. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t...I swear…”

Pulling him into his arms wouldn’t help him though. As must as it hurt him to do it, Steve continued down this path. 

“Did you _take_ any, Bucky?”  
“No,” his voice was cracking. “I swear, Steve, I didn’t.”  
“Do you want to?”

His head moved back and forth and then up and down and then back and forth again. 

“I don’t know…” He admitted. “Yes, yes, I do. I want it so badly.”  
“Okay,” At least he hadn’t had any yet. Maybe there was still hope. “Why are you there then, Bucky?”

He finally looked back up at him. Bucky ran his hands all over his face as though it was numb. Steve believed him when he said he hadn’t had any, but his addiction must have been pretty strong if he was feeling this way without even having it. 

“Please, Steve,” he begged. “Please, you have to help me get rid of it.”  
“What?” He didn’t understand. “Did you come here to ask me to stash your drugs for you, Bucky?”  
“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “No, that’s...I need you to get rid of it for me. Take it away from me so I don’t use it. I can’t use again, Steve, I can’t. I’ll lose everything. But I can’t go to Alex. He’ll…” His face was a mountain of pain and torment. “Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to be so mad if he finds out. Please, Steve, get rid of it. Please just take it and do whatever you need to and…”  
“You’re asking me to throw it out for you?” Steve clarified. “Is that what you want?”  
“Yes, yes, please, please,” His eyes kept sliding from Steve to the baggie on the table. “Please take it away so I can’t use it.”

It all made sense to Steve then. Bucky wasn’t able to get rid of the drugs on his own. He needed Steve to do it. Steve picked the baggie up between his fingers and held it out. 

“You don’t want them?”  
“Yes!” Bucky yelled. “Yes, I do want them! That’s why I need you…”

But Steve didn’t let him finish. Instead, he shoved the drugs right into Bucky’s hands. Bucky’s eyes went wide with shock and even more fear. 

“No, you don’t,” Steve said. “You don’t want to take them. If you did, you wouldn’t be here.”  
He was shaking so violently Steve though he was going to fall over. “Take them, Steve. Please take them.”  
“No. You get rid of them yourself.”  
“I can’t!” He cried. “I can’t do it!”  
“Yes you can!” Steve exclaimed. “You _can_ do it, Bucky! I don’t care what anyone has told you or made you believe. You _can_ do this. And you _want_ to do this.”

Bucky shot out of the seat and tried to hand the baggie back to him. Steve refused to take them.

“Please!” He wailed. “Please just take them and get rid of them for me!”  
“No, Bucky!” Steve stood up with him. “No, I won’t do that. Because I know what’s going to happen if I do. You’ll just go on believing that you’re too weak to do this. And that’s not true. If you’re strong enough to come to me for help, then you’re strong enough to get rid of them yourself.”

Face tearstained, Bucky was clearly searching for more coherency and falling short again. His hand was clenched tightly around his drugs. 

“Steve...please…”  
“I’m sorry,” Steve felt his voice wobble. “I can’t.”  
“Why not? Why won’t you help me? You said you were my friend. Please, I’m begging you, Steve,” He put his hands on Steve’s shirt, took hold of it. and pressed his brow into his chest. “Please, Steve, please. Why won’t you help me?”

Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands and had him raise his chin. He looked deep into his eyes and thought he would breakdown any second if this went on. 

“I can’t, Bucky,” He said softly. “I can’t because I love you too much. And I’m not strong enough to watch you destroy yourself with this stuff. You need to do it yourself so you know that you are not the person you think you are. You’re better than this. You’re so much more than this. Prove it to yourself. Or leave. But do not ask me to aide you in your self-destruction. I can’t do it.”  
“Steve...you…” Bucky’s lip quivered. “You really think I can do this?”  
“Of course I do.”

Bucky looked at the sink and then at the drugs in his hands. He did that a few times before finally tearing himself away from Steve and moving to the sink itself. For a few minutes he just stood in front of it. Then he turned to Steve and held his hand out. 

“Steve…?”  
Steve stepped over to him, but didn’t take his hand. “I’m here, Bucky. But you need to do this on your own. I’ll be right here.”

He nodded and attempted to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. Bucky’s tongue ran across his lips and he used the back of his hand to dry them. Finally, he hovered over the sink and undid the knot in the bag. For a second, it looked as though he was going to back out, and Steve could have cried. It happened quickly. So quickly that if he had blinked, Steve wouldn’t have seen it at all. Bucky turned his hand over and dumped it all out into the sink. The stuff was barely all out before he turned the water to wash it down the drain. Lastly, he shoved the plastic bag itself into the drain and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. 

Bucky let the disposal run for a few moments before turning it off. He stood over the sink a little while longer. Once his shaking stopped, he turned to face Steve, an amazed expression on his face. 

“How did you do that?” He asked him.   
Steve grinned, holding back tears. “I didn’t do it, Bucky. You did it. That was all you.”  
“No, Steve,” Bucky shook his head. “You did that.”  
“Bucky,” Steve held his gaze. “ _You_ did it.”  
“I did it?” He glanced back at the sink and whirled around to face Steve again. “I did it. That was me.”

More tears gathered in the corners of Bucky’s eyes. It was like he didn’t know if he should cry some more or laugh or scream or maybe even do it all. Steve opened his arms, giving him the invitation to come into them. It was on him to accept or decline. He watched Bucky swallow hard before he threw himself into his arms. Bucky wrapped his own arms around Steve’s waist as Steve enveloped him, resting his chin on his head. He could feel him crying silent tears.

“I’m so proud of you, Bucky,” He murmured into his hair.   
Bucky nuzzled up against his body. “Thank you, Steve. Thank you so much.”

Steve let Bucky cry for a while in his arms. It was clear that he needed that release. Within twenty minutes he was able to guide him back into the living room and sit him down on the couch. Once he was calm, Steve went back to the kitchen to heat a mug of water in the microwave and brought him back a cup of tea. By the time he returned, Bucky’s tears were gone and he looked up at him with an embarrassed smirk.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

Steve handed him the cup as he sat next to him on the couch. He took it and held it securely between his hands, sipping from it after giving just one blow across the top. 

“It’s okay,” Steve assured him. “I told you, I want to know you. That means the good _and_ the bad. How long have you been clean?”  
Bucky pressed the warm mug to his lips like he was cold. “Seven years.”  
“That’s really good.” He told him and, though they had only known each other for a short while, felt the need to add something else. “You made a mistake tonight, Bucky. But you didn’t do it. You didn’t take it. Please, don’t let anyone, especially that little voice in your head, tell you that you’re weak for what happened. If anything, you should feel stronger than ever.”

Rubbing his fingers over the tops of his eyes, Bucky nodded and gave him a weak smile. Then he looked down like he was feeling nervous about something. 

“Steve...did you mean that?”  
“Did I mean what? That you’re strong? Of course I…”  
“No, not that…” He pulled at the neck of his shirt and cleared his throat. “I mean...what you said before. That...that you loved me?”

Steve felt his cheeks warm up and he glanced away. The words had just come out before. If he had time to think about them, he probably wouldn’t have said them. As it was, he hadn’t had the time, therefore, he didn’t need to feel insecure about it. Now, though, now with Bucky questioning it, he felt unsure and awkward, and he shifted around. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, unable to maintain eye contact. “I, I probably shouldn’t have said that then. I just…”  
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You were just trying to get me to get rid of the stuff. I understand.”  
“No, Bucky, that’s not it.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s knee. “I just mean that I didn’t want to say it then, in a situation like that.”  
“So…” Bucky hesitated, his voice low and just barely audible. “You meant it?”

Steve had no idea how it happened or when it happened. All he knew what that it had. And there was no taking it back now.   
“Yes, Bucky,” He said. “I meant it. I do love you.”

He peered up at him, his eyes wide and swimming with honor and gratitude. Bucky tried to smile, but it was like he lips just wouldn’t cooperate. 

“I…”

He didn’t say anything. Bucky just continued to stare at Steve like he’d paid him the greatest compliment ever. Steve put his arm around him and Bucky leaned his head on his shoulder. 

“Steve, I…”

Steve moved his chin down to see him as he spoke. At the same time, Bucky had lifted his. When their eyes connected, Bucky stopped speaking. They were still, very still, and just stared at each other. 

Steve didn’t know who moved first, him or Bucky, but their lips were together, moving in perfect sync. Bucky tasted like absolute heaven, and no matter how bad this would end up, Steve knew he’d never regret the feel of his mouth on his. Without parting, they straightened up, Bucky running his hands up Steve’s shirt. His hands were so warm and so soft they made Steve’s skin tingle. When he felt Bucky’s tongue sliding across his lips, Steve parted his mouth and allowed him to shove his tongue into it. He let out a moan and felt him grinning against him. That made Steve make one attempt at breaking the kiss so he could put his tongue inside Bucky’s mouth. The second he moved to pull back, Bucky grabbed the back of his head and kept him there, unwilling let him go. 

This wasn’t exactly what Steve was used to. Steve was used to leading, or at the very least, sharing the lead. But Bucky wasn’t budging. Every time Steve attempted to do something on his own, whether break the kiss or switch their positions or even take a breath, Bucky refused to let him. It was like he needed to be in control, and it felt so good to let him have it. When Bucky climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, he finally broke the kiss and stared down at him. 

“Bucky…”  
“Shut up, Steve,” He said. “I don’t care right now. Just shut up.”

He grinded against him, and Steve could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants. Bucky let their cocks rub into each other and Steve’s entire body tightened. While he moved on top of him, Bucky worked Steve’s shirt up and over his head, then leaned in and started kissing his chest. He moved his lips across his torso, pausing by Steve’s left nipple and first gave it gentle suckle, then a little nibble with his teeth. In response, Steve thrust his hips up, a groan building in his throat. When Steve’s waist lifted, Bucky spared no time, and yanked his boxers down, his hard cock springing out. The second it was out, he had his hand wrapped around it. 

“Don’t move,” He told him, starting to move his hand up and down, squeezing and then releasing some of the pressure before squeezing again. 

Breaths backing up on him as he struggled to keep still, Steve just watched Bucky as he stared down at him as if his eyes penetrated right through his soul. He moistened his lips, and Steve was ready to beg him to use them instead of his hand. As if he knew exactly what was going through his mind, or maybe he just knew exactly what he was doing, Bucky gave him a devilish grin and let his tongue trace his lips. 

“Is that what you want, Stevie?” He taunted. “You want my mouth?”

Steve swallowed hard. He didn’t want to give in like this. Didn’t want to give him so much power over him. But he had it. He had it and Steve was powerless to take it back. 

“Jesus, Buck,” He murmured.   
“What is it, Stevie?” He wondered, lowering his mouth but not yet touching Steve with it. “Yes or no? I can’t hear you.”

He gave it another attempt and lifted his hips. But Bucky must have been prepared for that since he simply pulled his head up and moved only his eyes to give him a cruel sneer, like it was pointless to try. He slammed his hand down on Steve’s abs to keep him from moving. Steve knew he was stronger, though there was nothing he could do now anyway. He wouldn’t force him, he didn’t want to hurt him, and he wanted him so badly he could scream. 

“Fuck...yes, Bucky, please,” He finally moaned. “Please…”

Bucky let his tongue come out and touch just the very tip of his cock, teasing Steve with its moisture and thoughts of more to come. Without any warning, Bucky took all of him into his mouth, making Steve nearly jump up with the pleasure of it. He moaned and leaned his head back. His tongue swirled around him, making Steve feel things he never even thought possible. 

“Oh fuck,” He groaned, reaching out and gently putting his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Bucky...oh...my God...Bucky…”

He glanced down to see that Bucky’s gaze was on him, his eyes gleaming with wicked pleasure. Bucky knew exactly what he was doing, Steve could see that, see that he was enjoying watching him squirm underneath him. By the way he lit up with excitement, Steve was sure this was something he never got to experience, not in recent years anyway. But he felt so good, that mouth, that warm, succulent mouth wrapped around him and moving up and down, that Steve couldn’t imagine why anyone would deny him his desire to be in control. 

An orgasm was building inside of him, growing stronger and stronger the more Bucky moved. Steve grabbed the couch cushions. 

“Buck...I’m...if you don’t stop…”

He pulled his mouth off of him, his tongue swirling just the tip of his cock for a second. 

“Not yet,” Bucky murmured. “I’ll let you cum in a little while.”

Let him? In a little while? Steve was willing to wait a little bit, but a little while? His face must have given his dismay away since Bucky laughed at him. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” He teased. “You’ll get to, I promise.”  
Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re a shit.”  
Bucky chuckled. “I warned you.”

He took Steve’s hand and kissed it, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them one by one. After having his mouth around his cock, having Bucky suck on his fingers was a huge tease. But he then guided his hand down his own pants, shimmied out of them, and had Steve wrap his hand around him. Steve went to start stroking as soon as he had a grip on him, but Bucky pulled back. 

“Uh-ah,” He said. “You just hold on.”  
“Excuse me?”  
Bucky sneered at him. “Do you want me to let you cum or not?” Steve didn’t answer, and Bucky’s smirk widened. “That’s what I thought. Now just hold on.”

Holding in a huff, since he wanted, needed, to cum, and needed to have Bucky be the one who made him do so, Steve did what he wanted. He took hold of his cock again and Bucky started rocking his hips. Hands braced on Steve’s chest, he moved back and forth, giving Steve only the power to tighten or loosen his grip. Which he did, randomly, and enjoyed seeing him lose just a little bit of his poise. Bucky’s eyes closed softly and he bit down on his lip. When a quiet whimper was pulled from his mouth, Steve couldn’t help grinning. 

As if he knew he grinned, Bucky grabbed hold of him again and started stroking him so hard it should have hurt but instead felt amazing. Bucky took back any little bit of power he had unintentionally let Steve gain. All of Steve’s muscles curled around his bones and he started moaning, moaning so much he couldn’t stop. 

“Bucky, oh, oh, shit, Bucky…”  
“Do you want to cum, Steve?” He questioned in that arrogant, taunting tone. “Is that what you want?”  
“Yes...” He groaned. “Please, Bucky, please make me cum...”

Bucky’s cock was still enveloped in Steve’s hand, but he shoved his mouth around Steve’s again anyway and sucked. Steve exploded into his mouth, into that wickedly amazing hole that had worked him into such a frenzy he wouldn’t have realized that Bucky came seconds later if it wasn’t all over his hands. Out of breath, covered in sweat and heart pounding, Steve dropped his head back.

“Jesus,” He murmured and let out an anxious laugh.   
Chin resting on Steve’s chest, Bucky smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”  
Steve picked his head up and glanced down, narrowing his eyes. “Shut up.”

Bucky bit down on his lip again to keep from smiling wider. 

There were tissues next to the couch. Steve grabbed some to clean himself up and went to offer some to Bucky only to find that he was completely clean. The boy really knew what he was doing. Chuckling, Bucky climbed off of him and cuddled into his side. Steve wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close. They stayed like that for several minutes, and Steve knew they were both avoiding the awkwardness that was bound to show its ugly head. 

“Steve?”

There it was. He could hear it in Bucky’s voice already.

“Yeah?”  
“Is this…” He paused and swallowed. “Are we going to be okay?”

He had gone to sit up, tried to break away from Steve’s embrace, but Steve wouldn’t let him. Having no idea what was to come next, Steve wasn’t all that willing to let him out of his arms, especially if this happened to be the last time he got to have him there. He kissed the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” He said. “I shouldn’t have let that happen. I don’t want to make any complications for you. I just wanna love you.” Steve sighed and hugged him tighter. “I didn’t mean to make things hard for you.”

Bucky was quiet for a minute, tracing his fingers along Steve’s abdomen and circling them around his belly-button. 

“Why?” He questioned.   
“Why what?”  
“Why do you love me?”  
“Because you’re brave, and strong, and smart, and passionate, and pretty and you laugh like an angel, and I don’t know. I just do.”  
“I’m a junkie, Steve.” He said, clearly trying to negate all that Steve claimed to love about him.  
“You’re a recovering addict, yes. I told you, you’re brave.”  
“I don’t do anything right.” He tried again. “I mess everything up.”  
“You didn’t tonight. You were amazing tonight. I told you, you’re strong.”  
Bucky huffed. “I’m a spoiled brat.”  
Steve snickered. “I know.”

Burying his face into Steve’s side, almost tickling Steve with the pressure, Bucky groaned. 

“And you still love me?”  
“I still love you, Bucky.”

When Bucky went to lift himself up this time, Steve let him go. Bucky gazed at him with an expression that fell somewhere between awe and suspicion. 

“I’m really...confused, Steve.” He admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I shouldn’t be here right now. I shouldn’t have snuck out at all. If Alex…” He paled a little. “If Alex finds out...I’ll lose him.”

Steve wanted to tell him to leave Alex. He wanted to tell him how much better he deserved, and how manipulative and abusive Alex really was. Too afraid he would just cause him more pain if he did, and lose him by doing so, Steve cupped his cheek. 

“I don’t want you to hurt,” He said. “We don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to.”  
“But I…” Bucky looked disappointed that he’d said that. “I mean, I _do_ want to. It’s just…”  
“Pierce.”  
He nodded. “I love him. He’s the one who found me, thirteen years ago, on the streets, homeless, addicted, selling myself for any little money just for some drugs. He saved me. I know you don’t like him, I know he’s done things that are...illegal...I know…” Bucky sighed and caught his head in his hand when he dropped it. “I don’t know.”  
“Bucky, it’s on you. Whatever will make you happy? Whatever’s easiest for you? That’s what we’ll do.”

Bucky just stared at him. He looked like a child who was just handed the most responsibility in the world. The thought of this being his decision must have terrified him. 

“I should go,” He mumbled. 

Cold washed over Steve. He didn’t want him to leave. Steve wanted him to stay there, where he knew he was safe. 

“I can drive you,” Steve offered. “Or call you a cab. I’m not letting you leave by yourself.”  
Bucky nodded as he pulled his pants back on. “I’ll take a cab.”  
“You’re sure?” Steve really wanted to drive him. “I don’t…”  
“No, it’s better to take a cab.”

Bucky wasn’t looking at him anymore. It looked like he wanted to, but just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He excused himself to go into the bathroom and while he was there, Steve called him the cab. It arrived within minutes. Steve stood with Bucky at the opened door. 

“Thank you for tonight, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “I’m so sorry you had to see me like that.”  
“That’s all right, Bucky,” Steve assured him. “You have no idea how proud I am of you. What you did was amazing.”

Though he still wasn’t making much eye contact with him, Bucky gave him a warm smile. The compliment clearly meant a lot to him. They stood there for another moment, and probably would have longer if the cabbie didn’t honk the horn.

“Well, I see you later.” Bucky said, and opened the door. 

But he didn’t leave. He was very still, just staring out at the cab pulled over across the street. 

“Steve?” He continued looking outside.  
“Yeah?”  
“I...I think I love you, too.”


	22. How Am I at 22 Chapters?

The very second the words fell off his lips, Bucky raced away from Steve and all the feelings he evoked within him. He hopped into the cab across the street and quickly told the cabbie to just start driving. 

“What’re you running from?” he asked as he stepped down on the gas.  
“Nothing,” Bucky grumbled, zipping up his hoodie even though he wasn’t cold and then telling the cabbie where to take him.   
“Alexander Pierce’s place?”  
“That’s the one.”  
It looked like he was going to say something else then decided not to. “Whatever you say.”

Bucky settled back in the seat and closed his eyes. His fingers traced his lips, where Steve’s had been last, and they still felt so warm. 

Steve, who thought-- _knew_ \--he was strong enough to get rid of the one thing Bucky never thought he’d ever be able to get rid of on his own. 

Steve, who saw him at his most recent low and held him instead of turning him away.

Steve, who clearly wanted to take control--Bucky could feel it in every muscle that he touched--but allowed him to take it anyway. 

Steve, who said he loved him. 

And Steve, who Bucky was fairly sure he was falling in love with. 

Sitting forward again, Bucky let out a groan, ignoring the cabbie when he glanced at him through the rearview mirror. How was any of this happening? Why was this happening? He loved Alex. Simple as that. Alex had done so much for him, saved him, loved him, gave him everything, and Bucky was betraying all of that. Bucky felt horrible about it, he did. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t muster up the proper amount of guilt or even any regret. 

He should have regretted everything that had gone on tonight, every little bit of it. But he couldn’t even bring himself to regret giving in and calling Niko for the drugs. If he hadn’t done that, then he’d never have found out just how strong he really was. Steve had done that for him. It was Steve who gave him strength--more strength than even Alex had. What did that mean? 

Confusion swirled around in Bucky’s brain like a fog slinking through in the middle of the night, obstructing not only his vision but all his senses. This was wrong. All sorts of wrong and still Bucky felt...right. More right than he had felt in a long time. Until this very moment, he didn’t realize that he hadn’t been feeling right. He had been fine until Steve came. Steve made things crazy. He had barged into Bucky’s life with all his warmth and kindness and affection, and just started ripping it apart. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to feel angry though. Because as much as Steve tore the life he had been content with down, he put pieces of a new life back in for him. 

None of this made any sense. Worst of all, if Alex ever found out, he might have Steve killed. Bucky wasn’t completely naive about Alex’s business tactics, and Bucky was his. No one just came in and took something of Alex’s without consequences. The thought left Bucky cold and empty. Steve not existing in this world, and because of him no less, was an unbearable idea. It hurt to even think. He had no idea how this happened, but Bucky was now more concerned with protecting Steve than he was maintaining the comfort of his own life. He couldn’t let this go on. But then, he was fairly sure he never wanted to be without Steve either. So many different emotions raced through him that Bucky could have screamed. 

Mind racing, pulled in nearly every direction possible, Bucky almost forgot that he didn’t want the cab to pull right up to the front gates of Alex’s place. 

“Hey, wait!” He shouted. “You can stop right here.”

The cab slowed, but the driver didn’t stop it right away. 

“We’re almost there, kid,” He said. “Not gonna make it any cheaper.”  
“That’s fine,” Bucky grunted. “Just pull over.”  
“Whatever,”

Not bothering to hear what the total was, Bucky just flug a fifty dollar bill through the little window of the plastic partition when the cabbie opened it and then clambered out of the car. He was a few blocks away from the house, had to walk up hill to get there, and just stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie and started to march that way. Bucky kept his hood up. In this neighborhood, if someone happened to take a glimpse of their window and see him, they just might think he was a hoodlum, there to cause trouble, and call the cops on him. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, then again, nothing Bucky did over the last twenty-four hours hadn’t exactly been smart. And since dawn was beginning to break, a gray tinge was already starting to fill the horizon, Bucky worried about being spotted by someone on the shift change. Alex’s workers would be changing from the night to morning shifts soon. It would be a little trickier getting back inside. 

By the time Bucky could see the gates, there was an actual brightness to the sky. It wasn’t light out yet, but the illumination in the sky meant he didn’t have that much time left. Bucky had never been out this late before. He needed to do this quick if he wasn’t going to get caught. Pushing all other thoughts to the side for the moment, he focused on the task at hand. 

Bucky hugged the brick wall that ran around the property as he made his way to the back of it. At the right spot, he quickly made his way up and over the gate, landing lightly on his feet when he jumped down. He stayed crouched down for a moment, glancing around to make sure there was no one in the area. Then he sprang across the back lawn, heading for the back of the garage. Lifting the window, Bucky took one last glimpse around, and slipped inside. 

There was silence coming from behind the door that lead to the kitchen, but Bucky pressed his ear against it just to be sure. Holding his breath, he pulled it open just a crack and peeked inside. He couldn’t see anyone, not with the view he had, so he opened it just wide enough to slide his body through it and then closed the door silently behind him. 

Bucky made his way through the softly lit halls, pausing a few times when he heard voices and even changing directions once when he thought someone might have turned the corner and seen him. That took him the longer route to get back to Alex’s bedroom. On the way, he heard two familiar voices, and one of them was hard and angry. Intrigued, Bucky paused to listen. 

“He’s out there somewhere,” Mr. Rumlow growled. “ _Find_ him.”  
“Rumlow, we’ve looked in all his usual spots,” John replied. “I’m telling you, he’s not on a bender.”

Stomach twisting, Bucky stepped closer to the corner to hear clearer. He had no doubt in his mind they were talking about him. If they already knew he was missing...

“And I’m telling you there’s no way in hell he could have resisted that,” Mr. Rumlow insisted. “You should have seen his face. I thought he was going to fall apart right then and there. He’s out there.”  
John sighed. “I thought Mr. Pierce was done baiting him with drugs? Didn’t he want to stop after the last time?”  
“This has nothing to do with Pierce.”  
“It doesn’t?”  
“No,” Mr. Rumlow scoffed. “I just wanted to fuck with the kid.”  
“You’re sick, Rumlow,”

It didn’t sound like John was all that put off by Mr. Rumlow’s actions though. 

“Just find him.”

The both of them continued down the hall they were in, which ran perpendicular to where Bucky was. Bucky pressed himself against the wall, hiding in the few shadows that were there, and they walked by without noticing. He stood there for a moment, dazed and confused. It wasn’t all that surprising that his sudden craving for the drugs were because of what Rumlow had done yesterday, or that he had done it on purpose. What John had said though, about Alex using drugs to bait him, didn’t make sense. Alex wouldn’t _try_ to make Bucky fall of the wagon and use drugs again. That wasn’t Bucky’s own fault. When it happened, the few times it did, that was all on Bucky. Then again, Niko, or some other dealer he knew, did always happen to be around those time he went out and fell back to it. He had never gone looking. They found him. It was as if they always _knew_ where he’d be.

No. No, he was just paranoid. Alex wouldn’t do something like that. There was just no way. He wouldn’t set up him to fail. Alex loved him. He did. 

“He does,” Bucky tried to convince himself. “He loves you.” He sighed. “And you love him.”

_And you love Steve, too, don’t you?_

“No,” He whispered to himself. “You’re infatuated with him. He’s different. That’s all.”

Wasting no more time arguing with himself, Bucky hurried to Alex’s room, first stopping at his to shed his hoodie and sweatpants. The door was still closed when he reached it. It was early enough that Alex should still be in bed, sleeping soundly. If he wasn’t though, Bucky didn’t want to make it look like he was sneaking back into the room. So he opened the door slowly, but just as wide as he always would. If Alex was up, he could simply say he was trying not to wake him. Luck was on his side. Alex was still rolled over, sheets tangled around his legs, and sleeping. Bucky heard people coming towards the room though, and so he dashed into the bathroom. 

As soon as he was in there, Bucky heard the knock at the bedroom door. 

“Mr. Pierce?”

He could hear Alex stirring and then another soft knock. Alex must have sat up in bed. 

“Yes?”  
The door opened. “Mr. Pierce, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

It was Mr. Rumlow there. 

“What is it, Rumlow?”  
“Well, it’s about Bucky, sir.”

There was a pause. 

“What about Bucky?”  
“Well…”

Bucky opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, a smug and self-righteous gloat all over his face. 

“Yeah, what about Bucky?” He questioned, a purse on his lips and adding a flick of his eyebrows just to get under Mr. Rumlow’s skin.   
“What is going on?” Alex asked, turning his attention between the two of them.   
Mr. Rumlow’s eyes were on fire. “Mr. Pierce, he was gone. He disappeared in the middle of the night.”  
Alex fixed his gaze on Bucky. “Bucky?”

He shook his head. 

“I’ve been here, with you, Alex. All night.”  
Turning back to Mr. Rumlow, Alex tilted his head. “Did you check in here for him?”  
Face tight and turning red, he shook his head. “No, sir, we didn’t.”  
“Well, then, there you go.” Alex held his arm out for Bucky. He went over to him and he put it around his waist. “My boy knows better than to sneak out in the middle of the night, doesn’t he?”  
“Of course, Alex,” Bucky pecked the top of his head and then sneered at Mr. Rumlow. “I would never.”

That made Mr. Rumlow so angry it looked like he was shaking. But Alex dismissed him and pulled Bucky down on the bed with him. 

“You look tired, my boy,” He commented, brushing the hair away from his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

Guilt started creeping in then, enough that Bucky couldn’t look Alex in the eyes. He lowered them. 

“No, not really.”  
“Why not?” Alex wondered. “You seemed very on edge last night.” He inched closer to him and kissed his bare shoulder. “You’re more relaxed now though. Is everything all right?”

Alex had his hand on his right shoulder and rested his chin on his left. Bucky leaned against him. The remorse that bubbled in his stomach was only quieted when he thought about what it would mean for Steve if he said anything. Bucky needed to live with this on his own. That didn’t mean he could hide everything from him though. 

“I was craving last night,” He admitted. “Pretty bad.”  
Alex pulled away from him. “Is that right?”  
“Yeah, but, I made it through the night,” He said. “I’m stronger than I thought.”

Taking Bucky’s chin in his hand, Alex gave him a light squeeze and made a quick humming sort of noise in the back of his throat. He neither agreed nor disagreed with Bucky’s statement and then got up to get ready for the day. 

Bucky just sat there at the side of the bed. He wasn’t really sure what he expected out of Alex when he said that. Yesterday, his response, or lack thereof, probably wouldn’t have seemed so out of place. Today, it hurt. Disappointment fell upon him like a sudden cloud burst. Bucky had hoped Alex would tell him we was proud of him, that he thought he was strong--the way Steve did. 

He knew he didn’t deserve any praise, not after what he’d done. He’d snuck out without permission, gone to buy drugs, went to Steve’s, and had sex with him. Bucky had sex with Steve. It was all finally sinking in, and Bucky felt like he was sinking with it. He had sex with Steve Rogers. He was Alex’s, meant only for Alex, and he was with Steve. And he had the nerve to expect praise and admiration? 

“Bucky?”

The sound of Alex calling his name caught his attention. Bucky had been still, just sitting there as nausea rolled around in his belly, staring into space. 

“Yeah?” His voice squeaked. 

Alex was coming out of the bathroom, half dressed and running a comb through his hair. He must have asked him a question or said something that Bucky missed. Instead of repeating himself right away, he crossed the room and slipped his fingers under Bucky’s chin. 

“You don’t look well,” He told him. “I’m leaving for a day or two, out of town to meet with the FBI this afternoon in D.C., and I was going to take you with me, but,” Alex shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Perhaps you should stay in tonight and get some rest.”

Bucky looked up at him, turning his head slightly so that Alex’s hand rested against his cheek. 

“The FBI? Why do you need to see the FBI?”  
“They just want to have a meeting, is all.”  
“Can’t I still come with you?” He felt a deep seeded need to be with him, as if being separated would be completely disastrous. “I’ll just stay in the room.”

He seemed to contemplated that for just a moment. But Alex shook his head with soft sigh through his nose.

“No, I’m sorry,” He said. “I’m leaving in an hour and you look like you really need to sleep.” Alex let out a quick chuckle. “It looks like you haven’t slept all night.”

That’s because it was true. Bucky hadn’t gotten to sleep yet. He must have looked pretty awful if Alex was able to notice that easily. 

“Yeah.”  
“It must have been a rough night then,” He commented. “Better that you stay home and just sleep it off. Spend the day by the pool, in the sun if you want. You can even invite your new friend over if you want some company.”

Alex was sitting on the settee by the dresser, leaned over to put his shoes on when he made the comment, so nonchalant and carefree. It only made Bucky’s throat swell up even more. 

“Who?”

He glanced up as he tied his laces. 

“Steve Rogers. You _are_ still friends with him, aren’t you?” Bucky nodded slowly. “Well then, there you go.”  
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”

Bucky watched as Alex took a few more minutes getting ready. When he flung his suit jacket on, Alex came over and kissed his forehead. 

“Come down and have breakfast with me.” He said. “Then you can rest and have the day to yourself.”  
“Okay,” Bucky had meant to answer louder, but it came out as a whisper. 

As they walked down to the dining room together, Alex was talking about something, but Bucky didn’t quite catch what it was. When he suddenly looped his arm with Bucky’s, Bucky looked up at him. 

“Are you sure everything is all right, my boy?” he asked. “You seem awfully distracted.”

A yawn stretched his mouth wide open, and it must have struck Alex as humorous since he chuckled. 

“I’m just tired,” Bucky lied. 

There was a part of him that wished he could just tell Alex everything. Just confess his utter betrayal and beg for the forgiveness he didn’t deserve. Still, there was this other part of him wanted to keep Steve a part of his life forever. He never wanted to let him go. 

“Well come on,” Alex said. “Let’s get you some breakfast and then I’ll put you back to bed before my flight.”

Frowning just slightly, Bucky stopped walking and put his hand around Alex’s cheek to pull him closer to him so he could give him a kiss. 

After that, they went to the dining room where a buffet of pancakes, waffles and French toast was waiting for them. This time, while Alex was talking, Bucky made sure to pay extra attention to every word he was saying. He was telling him about an opera he was thinking about taking him to see on its opening night. Since Bucky had been listening, he was able to give him commentary, and they started getting lost in conversation. So lost, in fact, that Alex forget to keep track of the time. 

“Mr. Pierce?” Mr. Rumlow interrupted their dining. “We need to be leaving if you’re going to get to the meeting on time.”

Alex checked his watch and then wiped his mouth clean with one of the cloth napkins on the table. 

“I guess time still flies when you’re with a pretty boy.”

Mouth full of food, Bucky gave him a smile that wrinkled up his whole face. 

“You’re only saying that cause it’s true, Alex.”

Alex snickered as he rose out of the chair. He took the briefcase from the worker who brought it in for him, and came over to Bucky, leaning over him with his fingers under Bucky’s chin. 

“I wanted to tuck you back into bed, but I need to leave.”  
“I understand.”

He straightened back up, giving Bucky an odd look. Bucky thought he appeared to be baffled by his response. Without explaining the expression, he rattled his head and kissed him. 

“I’ll be home in a day or so. Behave yourself, my boy.”  
“I will.”

Alex picked up the glass on the table that Bucky hadn’t taken a drink from yet and put it down right in front of him. 

“Drink your milk, Bucky.”  
“Yes, Alex.”

On that parting exchange, Alex left, a few workers following behind him. Mr. Rumlow lingered in the doorway for a moment, his fierce gaze fixed on Bucky. Bucky picked up the glass of milk Alex wanted him to drink and offered a mock toast to him, letting his ego slip back through him. 

“Listen, you little shit,” Mr. Rumlow growled. “I don’t know how you pulled it off, but I _know_ you snuck out and back in last night.”

Before he gave any response, Bucky took a long, exaggerated swig of the milk, smacking his lips together and letting out a sigh of satisfaction when he lowered the glass. 

“You know nothing, Rumlow.”

Lips set in a line, he glowered at him and took one step into the room. There wasn’t too much Bucky needed to worry about. After all, Mr. Rumlow did need to go with Alex so he needed to leave. 

“Wipe that shit eating grin off your face, Barnes,” He hissed. “You’re the one who knows nothing. You’re a fucking puppet and you don’t even know it. You’re nothing around here, you’re nothing out there,” He nodded his head towards the windows. “You’re _nothing_.” When Bucky’s smirk faded to a grimace, Mr. Rumlow sneered. “Enjoy your milk.”

He stormed out, presumably going with Alex to his secret FBI meeting. Bucky held the glass in his hand, running the bottom around the table in small circles and watching the milk swirl around in it. Something about what Mr. Rumlow had said left a bad taste in the back of his mouth. 

For a moment, he considered not drinking the milk at all. Why should he? Just because Alex told him to? Bucky would show Rumlow. He’d show him that he was no puppet. He even got up and started to leave, milk still sitting on the table. When he reached the hall, Bucky stopped and looked over his shoulder. The half empty glass just sat there, mocking him. If he drank it, he’d just be proving Rumlow right. If he didn’t, he’d be disobeying Alex. Bucky wasn’t sure which was worse.

He just stood there, staring at the glass, fidgeting with his fingers, and becoming more aggravated by the second. In the end, Bucky huffed and stomped back over to the table. He grabbed the glass, a little bit of the milk slipping over the edge when he did, and gulped the entire thing down. Once it was empty, Bucky squeezed it in his hand and then flung it across the room. It crashed into the wall, shattering on impact, some of the shards glistening in the light coming in through the window. 

As Bucky was storming out, a few of Alex’s employees came bustling in to see what the noise was. 

“What happened?” One of them asked.   
“Just fucking clean it up and don’t worry about it,” Bucky grumbled, pushing past them all and hurrying upstairs to his room. 

He immediately went into the bathroom to take a shower. Bucky could still feel the sweat and smell the sex on him. He needed to clean up, get some sleep, and then maybe his mind would finally clear up. Everything would just make sense again after he rested for a little while. Bucky got into the shower and scrubbed his body down. When he felt clean--as clean as he could get himself to feel--he stammered out of the bathroom and intended on just falling into bed when he realized that his clothes from earlier were still piled on the floor. 

Bucky scooped them up to bring them to the hamper when he caught the scent coming off of them. The hoodie smelled like Steve. That caught Bucky so off guard the rest of the clothes fell from his hands. He brought the hoodie up to his nose and inhaled deeply. A warm, safe, and loved sensation rivered through his entire body. Clutching the hoodie, Bucky went to his bed and laid down. He wrapped his arms around the clothing, breathing Steve’s scent and all the feelings it evoked within him as he drifted to sleep.


	23. Wee, A Quick Twenty-Three

The vibrations from the cell phone on the nightstand woke Steve a little before noon. He didn’t usually sleep so late but since his late night visit from Bucky the night before last, he hadn’t gotten much rest. Steve’s mind had been plagued with guilt. He should have never let what happen with Bucky that night happen. Not when Bucky was in such an exceptionally vulnerable state. 

Steve felt awful about the entire thing. Even if it had been incredible, even if he did mean every word he had said, Bucky was in no position to truly appreciate or fully grasp everything that was going on. He might have well have been high--drunk on the emotions that overwhelmed him throughout the night. Steve couldn’t help feeling like he had taken advantage of him. He wished he could apologize for it.

On the rare chance that Bucky didn’t feel taken advantage of, Steve knew that he had definitely made his life more complicated, and that made him feel even worse. Since he didn’t hear from him, he assumed the damage he caused was even greater than he imagined. Steve would have tried to get in touch with him, even if only to apologize for his behavior, to make sure Bucky knew that none of it was his fault, but he had no number to call him. Any time Bucky called him, the number was private, and since he always called his work phone, Steve never missed it. 

When the foggy haze of being woken up cleared, Steve grabbed the phone to see who had called him. Only he hadn’t missed a call. Steve had gotten a text--from Rhodey. He shot up in bed, flinging the covers off as he opened the message. It was short, only a few words.

**Meeting with Pierce**   
**Today**

Steve knew he couldn’t text him back for any more information than Rhodey had already taken great risks to give him. But if the FBI was having an interview with Pierce today, it was possible that either something happened that Steve hadn’t heard about yet, or the Feds were getting ready to move. He closed the message and deleted it, then dialed for Sam.

After what happened with Bucky, Steve hadn’t been out of the house. Afraid Bucky might stop by, he stayed home and didn’t go up to the hospital. When Sam called to find out where he was, he told him he wasn’t feeling well. It was a reasonable excuse. No one wanted someone sick going up to the hospital. Steve wasn’t sure if Sam bought it or not, but he didn’t question it. 

“What’s up, Steve?” Sam answered on the second ring. “Feeling better?”   
“You and Nat are off today, right?” Steve asked.  
Sam hesitated. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”  
“Are you with her?”  
“She’s right here.”  
“Good. We need to talk. I’ll meet you up at the hospital in twenty.”  
“We’ll be there.”

Sam didn’t question Steve’s sudden urgency to meet up, and Steve knew that both he and Natasha would be there. He needed to hurry so he could get there to meet them. 

***

They all gathered in the hospital room around Clint’s bed, huddled close together so as not to be overheard. Clint and Natasha were sitting on the bed together, each using their own devices to search the net for something that they all may have missed. Out of all of them, it would be one of those two who would find it. Steve put a call into Sharon, who, along with Maria, would be poking around wherever they could to find out any information on the streets. With Pierce out of town, this was their shot to flush some sources out. 

Steve and Sam went over possible theories on what the FBI could officially be investigating Pierce about. They went over money laundering, and drugs, and human trafficking. 

“That seems the most likely,” Sam suggested. “It’s what Clint got blown up over.”  
Steve agreed. “It makes sense. What else would give them the jurisdiction? But what got them here in the first place?”  
“We may have an answer to that,” Natasha said. “Look what Clint found.”

She spun Clint’s tablet around to show them what she was talking about. On the screen were several missing persons articles. 

“What is it?” Steve asked.   
“All of these,” Clint scrolled down to show that there were a few more pages worth of them, “they’re all missing under similar circumstances. Low income families, late teen to early twenties, different races and different genders, yeah, but every one of them went missing when they were going on vacation, so they weren’t reported missing right away.” He scrolled back up to the top and swiped his finger to change the screen. “All of these? They’re half of those missing people, all found in raids, all part of the human trafficking ring.”  
“Not to mention some of the girls we found last week were undocumented,” Natasha commented. “I’m willing to bet that many undocumented citizens don’t report missing family members out of fear of the INS, so there’s probably even more connected to this.”  
Clint nodded. “She’s right. This might be the pattern the Feds noticed. We wouldn’t have had anything to pick up on. These disappearances are up and down the coast.”  
“Crossing over state lines,” Sam added. “Which gives the FBI the right to come in uninvited.”

Steve ran his hand over his brow. All of this began making sense. If the FBI had made some connection with these missing people, and they had something to do with with Pierce…

“Batroc,” Steve murmured.   
“What?” Sam looked over at him. “What was that?”  
“Georges Batroc,” He repeated. “He insists that Pierce set him up. He definitely had a hand in the operation, but he wasn’t running it.”  
“He won’t roll on Pierce though,” Natasha pointed out. “Sharon and Maria have tried it and he’s too afraid of him.”  
“Even though he says he put him in jail.” Clint scoffed with rattled of his head. “Gotta love the way they work.”  
“He’s gotta have something,” Steve said. “Some information that could be helpful.”  
“You could go ask him,” Natasha suggested.   
Steve looked over at her. “How? I’m on “vacation”, remember?”  
“You don’t need to be on the clock to visit someone, Steve.” Sam clarified. “You can just…”  
“Happen to want to drop in on your old pal, Batroc,” Clint finished for him.   
Sam shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Steve’s eyes glided to all of their faces as they gazed at him, all their eyes focused intently on him. He chuckled. 

“I guess I’m going to talk to Batroc.”

Despite the grim atmosphere, they all couldn’t help the laugh that caused. When Steve stood up, they got serious again. 

“Look, give Sharon and Maria a call,” He instructed. “Tell them what you’ve put together. Maybe…” Steve paused to answer his phone. “Detective Rogers?”  
“H-hi, Steve?”

Every ounce of Steve’s countenance changed when he heard Bucky’s voice. The cut and dry ready for business cop, all set to go down to county to talk to the big time criminal they just arrested, was shoved aside by the unsure and guilt-ridden person he’d been the past two days.

“Hey, Bu--uh, hi,” He could feel his body shrink into itself like he could hide from his team while still standing in the middle of the room. “How are you?”  
“I’m okay.” Bucky replied. Steve was relieved he didn’t sound bothered to hear his voice. He did sound a little unsure about himself though. “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday.”  
“No, that’s okay,” Steve hushed his voice, even though he knew Sam, Natasha and Clint were listening no matter what he did at this point. “I’m just glad to hear from you and that you’re,” He tried not to glance at everyone else watching him on the phone so he turned around, “you’re okay.”  
There was a pause before Bucky said something else. “Are you busy?”  
“Um, I...well…”  
Bucky started chuckling. “Steve, are you with your team right now?”

Even though it was Bucky who asked the question and he couldn’t see him, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yeah...sorta…”

There was some muffled laughter on the other end of the phone and Steve had a feeling Bucky was laughing at him. 

“Awkward for ya, Steve?” He teased. “Haven’t told your little family about me?”

Cheeks burning, Steve sighed, though his lips did pull up in a tense grin. 

“Shut up.”

He could hear him still chuckling. Bucky had been itching to put him in an awkward position, and he’d finally caught him in one. Now that he got him there, he was certainly going to take some time to gloat. 

“Aw, what’s the matter, Stevie?” Bucky taunted, a smile clear in his voice. “Don’t want to tell them about your little Bucky?”

Steve groaned, doing what he could to hold in a clumsy snicker, and felt his cheeks burning. 

“I’m going to hang up on you.”  
“Okay, but before you do, Steve,” Bucky obviously couldn’t resist. “Can you come see me today? I need to talk to you.”

That made Steve’s stomach clench. His throat felt tight and his tongue was unusually dry. 

“Yeah, okay,” He forced a cough. “Where?”  
“You can come to Alex’s place.” He told him. “He said I could ask you over.”

Steve straightened up, a dark feeling descending upon him. 

“Oh he did, did he?”  
“Yeah, so you don’t need to worry about coming. No one is here except some of the normal workers.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. Of course Pierce told him to have him come over. He was going to see the FBI. No doubt he knew that forcing him on a vacation wouldn’t stop Steve from investigating. Pierce was using their budding relationship to try to distract him. 

“Steve?” Bucky said softly over the phone. “Do...do you not…”  
“Yeah, I have something I need to take care of first.”  
“Oh, all right,” He sounded nervous now. “You’re going to come though, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“You promise?”  
Steve smiled. “Yeah, Bu...yes, I promise.”  
Bucky laughed at him again. “Look how cute you are, trying not to say my name. How badly do you want to say it right now?”  
“I’m hanging up now, James.”  
“Aw, you cheater.”

Steve laughed into the mouthpiece before ending the call. He pressed the top of the phone into his lips a bit before gripping it tight and sucking in a deep breath. When he turned around, he was met with three very amused faces. He shook his head and sighed. 

“James, huh?” Sam snickered.   
“Is that who you smell like?” Natasha wondered.   
“More importantly, does he cook well?” Clint asked. “Cause, no offense, Rogers, but you could use some cooking lessons.”

With a rattle of his head, Steve groaned and headed for the door. 

“I’m going to talk to Batroc.” He said and paused before he left. “Pierce knows we’re still looking into him. He’s trying to keep me distracted.”

The other three exchanged baffled glances. 

“How do you know that?” Sam asked.  
“I just do,” He answered, eyes sliding down to the phone still in his hand. “Be careful out there, okay?”  
“You be careful, too, Steve.” Natasha said. 

Steve waved over his shoulder as he walked out of the room and headed to county to go see Batroc.


	24. 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter includes a scene depicting intense child abuse and homophobia.

The day was nice enough out that Steve opted to take his motorcycle to Pierce's. It was a good thing too since he wanted the chance to clear his head after leaving county. County was always stuffy and loud and caustic. Steve had petitioned both the mayor of the city and the state’s governor to have it cleaned up. He’d gotten no where of course, the petition being buried under a mass of bureaucratic red tape. This afternoon proved that things had not improved at all.

When he was brought into the visiting room to wait for Batroc, Steve really didn’t expect it to go anywhere. Especially after Batroc seemed to light up with vulgar excitement when he saw it was Steve who was there to visit him. Assuming he’d get nothing from him, Steve kept his questions cool and casual. But Batroc saw right through him and insisted that he’d say nothing if Steve didn’t get him a deal. Steve knew that was impossible. The District Attorney, Jennifer Walters, would never go for it. She wasn’t on Pierce’s payroll, Steve was sure of that, but she would never make a deal with a criminal like Batroc and risk letting him get out.

“No,” Steve denied outright. “It’s not going to happen.”

As soon as Steve stood up, Batroc moved to put his hands up, only to be tugged back down by the handcuffs chained to the metal table. 

“No, wait,” Batroc shook his head. “Could you...could you at least testify on my behalf? Or something? At least let them know. I mean...you’re Steve Rogers. They’ll believe you.”  
“If what you tell me helps, then I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Batroc nodded and waited for Steve to sit back down. He looked around even though they were the only ones in the room. 

“I know how they transport the girls.”

***

It was so simple it was genius. The chain bakeries in the cities, the ones Pierce owned. They used their vans and trucks, loaded the girls into the back of them and brought them down to the docks. The trucks came in and out of the cities though all hours of the day and night, supposedly making out-of-state deliveries. Steve couldn’t imagine how many times he drove by one filled with young women destined for such a horrible fate. 

The first one Steve told what he had learned to was Sharon since she and Maria were on duty. They all agreed they needed to handle the situation delicately. If they just started to stop the delivery trucks, Pierce would know they were on to him and he would devise another way to get the job done. 

“Lay low the rest of the day, Rogers,” Sharon advised. “Fury knows you went to see Batroc.”  
“He’s not mad, is he?” He asked.   
“Of course not,” She assured him. “But Maria heard him on the phone with Mayor Stern who was wondering why you were,” She coughed like she was about to add air quotes when Steve couldn’t see them. “ _visiting_ a criminal like Batroc.”  
“Sounded like Fury had to defend you,” Maria added. “Like maybe Stern was questioning your honor.”  
Steve scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to discredit me. I wasn’t there long.”  
“Still, just be careful and stay off the radar today,” Maria conquered with Sharon’s advice.   
“Will do.” 

Steve left it to them to tell the others. Like they had told him to do, Steve was going to lay low. Hopefully, going to Pierce’s house to see Bucky qualified. 

Pulling up on his bike, the front gates opened like he was expected already. He gave a flick of his fingers to the man in the booth, who acknowledged him with a nod, and continued up the driveway. When he was parked and headed up the front steps, someone opened the door. It was a woman, tan skinned and caramel colored hair, almost Steve’s height. He recognized her as one of the escorts that he’d seen accompanying Bucky around. 

“Detective Rogers,” She greeted. “Right this way.”  
Steve hesitated. “You’re not leading me to my death are you?”  
She snickered. “Not that I know of. Although, Bucky has been known for causing some problems for people. He is a pain in the ass.”  
“That he is,” Steve chuckled as he followed her through the halls and to the very same sliding glass doors that he had first seen Bucky come through. 

Opening them, she stepped out and then gestured for him to keep going. Steve could see what she meant. 

“Bucky is in the pool.”

The pool was about a football field’s length away from where they stood. Freshly cut green grass surrounded a concrete pathway to get there. Steve nodded to the woman and started down the walkway. As he neared the pool, he could see Bucky was laying on a float, his arms tucked behind his head. When Steve got there, he could tell he was sleeping. He just watched him for a moment, that same guilt pushing it way through his veins again. 

Steve crouched down and stuck his hand in the water, the temperature was pretty nice, probably very refreshing. Hand dipped in the pool, he glanced up to see if Bucky had noticed him yet. He was still just floating around, completely oblivious to his presence. Unable to resist, Steve swiped his hand through the water and splashed a handful over at Bucky. 

The second the liquid landed on him, Bucky jerked up. His rough movements caused the entire float to flip over, sending him plunging into the water, and Steve started cracking up. Bucky pushed off the bottom of the pool to hop back up, shaking his head and running his hands over his face and hair. He looked shocked until his eyes landed on Steve. 

“Steve!” He laughed. “What the hell?”  
Steve held his arms out in a shrug. “What can I say? It was too tempting.”  
“How nice of you,” Bucky said as he swam over to the side. When he got there, Bucky folded his arms on the edge of the pool and looked up at Steve. “Wanna come in? It’s beautiful.”  
“I don’t have a suit.”  
“I can get you one.”  
He chuckled and rocked his head once. “I don’t think so.”  
“Fine,” Bucky sighed a whine. “At least gimme a hand.”

Bucky held his hand out to him and Steve went to take it. Right before he would have grabbed it, Steve yanked it back. 

“If you pull me in, I swear…”  
“I’m not going to pull you in.” He said, mischievous smile on his lips. “Cross my heart.”  
“Bucky, I’m warning you,”  
He huffed and shook his hand. “Okay, okay.”

Adding one last warning look before moving again, Steve took hold of his hand. The second Bucky’s hand was in his, he felt the tug on his arm. He attempted to resist, but being at the edge of the pool already, Steve toppled right into the water. He came back up immediately and climbed back out. 

“Damn it,” he grumbled as he yanked out both his phones. “If these are broken…”

Though Bucky had been laughing, he was silent now, and out of the pool, standing right behind him. 

“I-I’m sorry, Steve,” He apologized. “I was only playing. I...I’ll get you new ones if they’re not working...I mean…”

Steve fixed his gaze on him and Bucky immediately stopped talking. He had sounded a bit panicky, and looked back at him with fear in his eyes. While Steve had initially been irritated, it was only because of the thought of his electronics being damaged--they seemed to have survived. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest and pushed him back in the pool. Putting his phones down on one of the lounge chairs, he slipped into the water before Bucky resurfaced. 

“Come here, you little jerk,” He teased, pulling Bucky into a headlock as soon as his head was above the water. “Who do you think you are, huh?”

He dunked Bucky back under and let him come up freely next time. Bucky shook his hair out, and appeared as though he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be on guard again. He threw his palms out and held back a huge smile. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He chuckled. “Truce?”  
“Oh, now you want a truce, do you?” Steve taunted. “Is someone’s bark bigger than his bite?”

A playful sneer pinched his face and Bucky lunged for Steve, diving right at him. Unprepared for the move, Steve fell back, catching Bucky in his arms and they both sank beneath the surface. When they came up, laughing and shaking their heads, they were right near the wall of the pool, Steve’s back close to it. When Bucky looked up at him, they caught eyes, and all playing slowed to a complete halt. Steve could see the same hunger in Bucky’s eyes as he felt growing inside of him, so he glanced away with an uneasy cough. At the same time, Bucky swam back a bit. 

“Maybe we should,” Steve lifted himself out of the pool while still facing Bucky, “get out now.”

Bucky wiped the water away from his face and nodded. He held his hand up to Steve, who was still seated at the edge. 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He said. 

Steve rolled his eyes, but took his hand. He made good on his promise this time, and Bucky just took Steve’s assistance in getting out. On a lounge chair next to the one Steve had put his phones was a towel and a robe. Bucky went over and wrapped the towel around his waist, then tossed the robe to Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” He said through his smile. “I can have your clothes dried for you.”

Steve groaned as he slipped down to his boxers and put the robe around him. He took his things--wallet, keys, belt--out of his pants and then threw his wet things right at Bucky. 

“That’s the second time you’ve made me uncomfortable today,” He grumbled at him.   
Bucky smirked and flicked his eyebrows up. “It was bound to happen eventually. I am an expert at it.”  
“I’d say you’re more an expert at being a pain in the ass.”  
“Eh, that too.” Bucky laughed. “Come on, Steve. I’ll get someone to bring you dry clothes.”

Steve followed Bucky back into the house. As soon as Bucky spotted one of the workers there, he practically flung Steve’s wet clothes at him. 

“Get these dried for Detective Rogers,” He ordered. “And find something suitable for him to wear.”

Bucky had continued on walking while he barked his commands at the man, though the man didn’t seem at all phased. It must have been commonplace around here to have Bucky speak like that. In any other circumstances, Steve probably would have said something. But seeing how these people were working for Pierce, he didn’t. Not at first. Then he considered the fact that some of these people, maybe not all, and maybe just one or two, might actually only be working here out of necessity. They may have had families of their own, with sick children or maybe even sick parents that they were caring for. 

“Bucky,” He said softly. “Don’t treat people like that. It’s rude.”

He kept moving and didn’t look back at him, but Steve could tell that his eyes lowered. 

“They don’t care about me,” He mumbled. “They’d all be shitty to me if it wasn’t for Alex.”  
“ _All_ of them?”  
“Well...no, not all of them,” Bucky admitted. “Terry was really nice.”  
“Who’s Terry?”  
“He was one of my escorts. But he left right after I moved back in with Alex.”  
“You mean after you tried to live on your own?”  
Bucky sighed, a soft moan in the back of his throat. “Tried and failed, yeah. Terry told me that I shouldn’t have given up so easily. Said I should have given it another shot. I even thought about it. But then he up and quit on me, said he couldn’t be bothered with me anymore. No one ever stays with me.”

That last part came out just below a whisper, but Steve still caught it. They were on the stairs now, and he put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He said. “I mean, hey, you got me in a bathrobe and I’m still here.”

Even though Bucky chuckled, Steve could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. He was also fairly sure that Terry hadn’t just quit. Something told him that he had been threatened and forced to leave for encouraging Bucky--he may even have been killed. Same as he knew that Pierce was just trying to keep him busy by putting the idea in Bucky’s mind to have him over today. But Steve was already a step ahead of him. His team had a great, valuable piece of information.

Silently, they reached Bucky’s room. The room was huge, at least twice the size of Steve’s living room, and even had, what appeared to be a sitting area, with a couch and two recliners. He hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look last time he was here. 

“Will those fit you?” Bucky asked, pointing to the bed. 

There was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt laid across it. They certainly moved fast around here. Steve checked the sizes, and sure enough, they were good. 

“Yeah, these work.”

Bucky nodded. “The bathroom is that way if you want to change. Unless you _want_ to stay in the robe.”

He was trying to tease him, Steve could tell, but the arrogance and playfulness that normally accompanied such a comment was absent. Steve gave him a smirk and headed to the bathroom, where the guilt for what had happened the other night slithered back into him. He needed to do something about that. Changing into the clothes, he folded the robe over his arms and returned to the bedroom to Bucky sitting on the couch, still in the towel wrapped around his trunks. 

“Oh, just leave the robe in the bathroom. The staff will take care of it.” He told him.

Steve tossed the robe back in there, making sure it landed on the counter and not the floor, and then turned back to Bucky. Stiff and awkward, he rubbed the side of his neck. 

“Listen, Bucky, I’m...sorry about what happened,” He stated. “The other night.”

Just staring at him for a second, Bucky blinked a few times, a crushing look filling his face. 

“You are?”  
Steve nodded. “I shouldn’t have done that. More to the point, I shouldn’t have let that happen. It was wrong of me.”  
“Yeah, I, I get it.” He mumbled, eyes casted towards his lap. “I, um, I shouldn’t have, you know, I mean, I should have known better. I’m with Alex anyway, so…”  
“Bucky, no, that’s not what I mean,” He clarified and stepped closer to where Bucky was seated. “I’m not sorry because it was _you_. I’m sorry because it was wrong of me to take advantage of you in such a state. You have no reason to forgive me for that, but I want you to know how sorry I am.”  
“Forgive you?” Bucky went over the words. “You didn’t take advantage of me, Steve.”  
“Yes, Bucky, I did. You were not in a good state of mind, you were emotionally vulnerable, and I should have been better than I was.”  
Bucky shrugged. “Well, so what? It’s not like I haven’t gotten worse than that before. At least it was with you.”

Taken back by his statement, Steve tried to keep his mouth from falling open. He was silent for a moment so he could compose himself. 

“It...it matters, Bucky. And it should _always_ matter. You deserve better than that. You deserve to be treated with dignity and respect.” Steve didn’t realize he had moved to sit with him until his hand gently cupped his cheek. “You deserve to be loved.”

His eyes had closed softly for a moment, and Bucky raised his hand to put it against Steve’s. When he opened them again, there was a wicked gleam in them. 

“You know, Steve,” He licked his lips the way he had the other night. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He was sassing him, avoiding the subject by turning it with wit and sauciness. Steve wasn’t done with this, not by a long shot, however that didn’t mean he couldn’t use this turn of direction to his advantage. 

Taking hold of Bucky’s hips, Steve pulled him forward and pinned him down with his waist. Giving him no time to react, Steve forced Bucky’s arms behind him. With his own weight down on him, Bucky struggled to move. 

“What...what are you…?”

But before Bucky could even finish voicing his confusion, Steve dug his fingers into his ribs and started tickling him. He must have caught Bucky by such surprise since he yelped the second it started, and then flailed about underneath him. 

“No!” He gasped with laughter. “Oh God, Steve! Please, no!”  
“Oh, not so tough now, right?” He taunted.

Steve didn’t stop. He continued right on tickling him, Bucky squirming, gasping for air, pleading with him, face red and tears in his eyes from all the laughter. He whined and whimpered in between bouts of laughter, desperately trying to free his arms. No matter how hard he struggled, Steve wouldn’t give in. 

“You give up?” He finally asked, after a minute or so of the playful torture. “Ready to hear my demands?”  
“Yes, yes!” Bucky cried. “I give up, I give up!”

Chuckling, Steve eased up a bit, but kept his fingers right in the spot that made Bucky jump the most. 

“Then I want you to listen to me, and listen to me very closely,”  
Bucky folded his lips in. “Okay, I’m listening, I swear.”

Steve hovered over him slightly, putting his face very close to Bucky’s. 

“You. Deserve. To. Be. Loved.” He said. “Do you understand me, Bucky? You. Deserve. To. Be. Loved.”

All traces of playfulness gone, Bucky looked like he was too shocked and nervous to respond properly. But he gave a little, unconvincing nod to which Steve just shook his head. 

“I want to hear you say it,” He demanded. “Let me hear you say you deserve to be loved.”  
“You deserve to be loved.” Bucky mocked. 

Steve narrowed his eyes at him and pressed his fingers right back into his side. Bucky jumped and squeaked. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He gave in right away. “I deserve to be loved! I deserve to be loved!”

Satisfied, Steve gave him a smile and let him up. As soon as he was up--Bucky scooted away a bit, a fun and playful movement--Steve took his chin in between his thumb and fingers. 

“Now say it and mean it.” He requested. “Please.”

Bucky lowered his gaze, still allowing Steve to have his gentle hold on him. 

“But...I am, Steve,” He murmured. “I mean...I am...loved.”

Steve took in a deep breath and swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he prepared to take a huge risk. 

“Are you? Are you really loved? Why? Because you get to live in a big place and boss people around? Do you really think that’s being loved?”  
This time, Bucky pulled away, inching over to the side of the couch. “No, it’s not just that. Alex loves me. He...he does.” Steve wasn’t sure who Bucky was trying to convince. “He got me off the streets, got me off drugs, he takes care of me even though I’m a failure.”  
“You’re _not_ a failure,” Steve insisted. “Alexander Pierce may have gotten you _away_ from the drugs, but _you’re_ the one who stays off of them. _You’re_ the one who faces each day without going back to the streets. _You_ do that, Bucky, _not_ Pierce.”  
“No, no, no. It…” Bucky struggled to find the words. “It’s not like that. You don’t understand. You weren’t there. I was a mess. I can’t do it without him.”  
“That’s funny, because I remember you doing just that the other night.”  
“That was you.”

Steve slammed his hand down on the cushion between them, startling Bucky enough that he gave a little jump. 

“Damn it, Bucky, stop it,” He scolded. “Just stop it already. _You_ are the one who did that. It had nothing to do with me! I was just present. _You_ got rid of them! Do you have any idea how much strength that takes? When you going to get this ridiculous idea that you’re a failure out of your head?”  
“Oh why? Because _you_ say I’m not?” Bucky growled. “Because you’ve known me for just so long that _you_ can make the judgement call? Because Steve Rogers is, what do they call you, the _Heart_ of the City? So that means he just _knows_ everything about me, right?”  
“Okay, no,” Steve made his voice much softer. “You’re right, I don’t know everything about you, and I don’t know all that you’ve been through.” He reached out and touched Bucky’s face. “But I _do_ know that I love you. And I also know that while Alexander Pierce may have, for his own benefits, _aided_ in your recovery and improved your life, it’s _you_ that made it work, _you_ that continues that work. You’re _so_ much better than what Pierce has let you believe.”  
“Alex…” Bucky shook his head and ran his hands over his face. “Alex loves me.”  
“Bucky, he took a drug addicted teenager off the streets and made him into what he wanted.”  
“No! No, I was sixteen and, and he wouldn’t touch me until I was eighteen!” he exclaimed. “He wouldn’t even have taken me if I hadn’t begged him to _because_ I was sixteen! Now, how...how could he be so bad if...if he did that?”

Thirteen years. Alexander Pierce had thirteen years to foster and nurture this level of dependency he’d forced upon Bucky. Steve knew he needed to ease off. To help him, he needed to peel away the levels of dependency Bucky had for Pierce, peel them away carefully and slowly. Right now, he was just shattering his reality, and would end up with a mess of broken down emotions and probably be shut out. 

“Okay, I, I’m sorry,” He said gently, placing his hand on Bucky’s knee. “I just, I think you deserve better.”  
Bucky moaned. “You don’t get it. This _is_ better. I know you don’t like Alex, and I know that Alex isn’t a model citizen, but, but, Steve, if only you knew how much worse he _could_ be to me. Alex is so much better than _he_ was.”

That wasn’t the first time Bucky had mentioned a “he”. Steve rattled his head. 

“Who, Bucky?”

Bucky jumped off the couch and started pacing back and forth in front of it. His head shook from side to side. 

“No, no, I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled. “You don’t understand.”  
“But maybe I would if you told me.”  
“He’s not a monster,” Bucky said, his body beginning to tremble. “Not Alex. I’ve seen a monster. I’ve heard him. I’ve smelled him. I’ve felt him.”  
“Who are you talking about? Do you mean Hank Pine?”

Bucky halted and stared at him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Just the mention of the name had him pale and terrified. 

“How did you...where did you hear about him?” 

His eyes wandered about as though he was trying to figure out whether or not he’d told Steve that name before. 

“I’m a cop, Bucky,” He told him. “It’s my job to know things. What did he do to you? Did he…?” 

Steve didn’t come out and say it though. All he did was trail his eyes down Bucky’s body. That was enough for him to understand the question. 

“No,” He whispered. “No, never that.”  
“Did he hit you?”

At first, Bucky looked too haunted to answer. Steve didn’t think he was going to at all. Then, he nodded once, in one long, drawn out motion. 

“At first I hid from him, under the bed, when he just got angry and it was just us at home.” Bucky swallowed hard and wiped at his eyes even though there weren’t any tears. “I used to hide under the bed when I was scared. It worked. He was always too drunk on scotch fo find me. But then I started _trying_ to make him mad...before Mom got home.”  
Steve nodded. “So he would hit you and not her?”  
“Yeah,” He whispered, not quite looking at Steve. “It didn’t always work, and I never let her know he ever touched me. She didn’t know. I...I guess I tried to wear him out.”  
“Something happened though, didn’t it?” Steve guessed, keeping his voice soft and open. He wanted to hold him, but knew better. It would be best to let him have the space he needed right now. “Something made it worse.”

Bucky’s eyes finally lifted to meet Steve’s. He looked lost and tired, but started telling him what happened.

_Ninety minutes. That how long he had. Ninety wonderful minutes all to himself before Hank came home and it started all over again. Now that his mother was working the afternoon shift at the store, he had to spend a lot more time alone in the house with him. Bucky did what he could to keep away from Hank until just a little while before she got home. When he was drinking, which was almost everyday anyway, Bucky still hid under his bed. He felt like a fool. A fourteen year old hiding under his bed? But he couldn’t help it. Every time he heard his voice booming as he marched up the stairs, Bucky needed to hide. He was too afraid to face him when he wasn’t prepared already._

_Bucky laid down on his bed, flat on his stomach, wrapping his arms around his pillows. It didn’t start off like this. Hank wasn’t a man like his father, not even in the slightest but he wasn’t like this. He had treated his mother pretty decently and was kind enough to Bucky that Bucky didn’t really mind all that much when they got married. The drinking started a few months into their marriage. The yelling started a few weeks after that. Hank would yell about anything, even things that didn’t make any sense to be yelling over. First, his mother would take Bucky into her bedroom and she would play music and dance with him. A few months after that, though, Hank started to get rough._

_It wasn’t something that Bucky realized was happening, not until he saw the bruises on his mother’s arms. Until that moment, he just covered his ears when Hank started screaming. Bucky wanted to say something to his mother, to comfort her, soothe her, but he couldn’t find the words. He knew how disappointed his father would be in him. It wasn’t long after that when Hank started coming after him when his mother was still at work._

_The first time was the worst. Bucky didn’t expect Hank to come barging into his bedroom while he was doing homework and start screaming about his missing glasses--the glasses that sat upon his head. When Hank pulled them off, he stared at them for a second, and then backhanded Bucky so hard he almost fell of the seat. Hank went on to blame Bucky for causing him to lose his glasses and when Bucky tried to argue, Hank pulled him up by the back of his shirt and flung him back down to the ground. Bucky learned quickly after that it was just better to keep quiet and shut up when he was on a rampage. It ended sooner that way. Whenever he could, when he’d hear Hank’s approach--it was easy when he was swearing and yelling and stomping around--he slipped under the bed, closed his eyes and just wished to be invisible._

_So far, the tactic had worked. The times he hid, Hank never found him. Bucky sighed and pressed his face into his pillows. He figured he ought to get some homework done before Hank got home and the fire started._

_He picked his head up when he heard the front door open and slam._

_“Bucky! Bucky, where are you, you little shit?”_

_Stomach falling, Bucky thought he was going to be sick. What was he doing home so early? He couldn’t be drunk already. Working for an extermination company, he needed to drive a truck from place to place. The scotch always came out at home._

_Yet he was there, storming up the stairs and screaming for Bucky._

_Bucky rolled off the bed and crawled under it just as his bedroom door opened. Lightheaded and dizzy, he could feel his entire body begin to tremble as he watched Hank’s feet move about the room, his boots making a heavy noise on the floor as he did. When his feet were right next to the bed, Bucky closed his eyes and held his breath. A few tears squeezed through the corners of his eyes as he just tried not to move. For a minute, Bucky couldn’t hear anything. Then, the door slammed closed. He let out a relieved sigh. And then he screamed when an arm reached under the bed and Hank’s hand snagged him by the shirt to yank him out._

_“There you are, you filthy shit,” He roared. “Didn’t think I’d find out, huh? Thought you could hide it from me, didn’ya?”_

_Bucky’s breaths backed up on him in his fear as Hank had lifted him up by the front of his shirt._

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He yelled._

_Hank flung him down on the floor and then kicked him right in the gut. The air leapt from his lung, and Bucky struggled to breathe correctly._

_“Know what they say down at work?” Hank boomed over him. “Say I gotta start teaching you how to be a man! Cause your shit father up and left now it’s on me!”_

_Bucky coughed, feeling a hatred like no other. On his back, he glared up at him._

_“He didn’t **leave** ,” He growled. “He died. And he was twice the man you are.”_

_Hank reached down and grabbed him again, hauling him back to his feet and slapping him right across the cheek. Bucky’s eyes watered, but he looked back at him anyway._

_“Twice the man, huh?” He sniggered. “Twice the man yet his fucking son is a little sissy fruitcake!”_

_Bucky could feel all the blood draining from his body. Any fight he had in him left completely._

_“What?”_   
_“Oh, yeah, thought you could hide it,” Hank shook him hard. “But Bill saw you. Saw you with that Jones kid. No wonder you spend so much time with him. I should have known, what with you **dancing** and **studying** and **reading** all the time.”_

_Unable to look up at him, Bucky tried to figure out what had been seen. He and Gabe had only kissed a few times, but that was always in alleys and behind buildings. They had been so careful, but they did sometimes hold hands. Maybe Bill, whoever the hell that was, saw that._

_“I...I haven’t done anything,” His voice shook. “I swear.”_   
_“Bullshit.”_

_Hank tossed him onto the bed and started swearing at him, yelling out such hurtful and hateful profanities Bucky thought he was going to cry. Ice froze his blood whenever those words left Hank’s mouth._

_“Oh, are you gonna cry? Lemme see your little girly tears.”_   
_“Please, shut up,” Bucky whimpered. “Just stop. I...I like girls. I swear. I do. I like girls.”_   
_“You think having a crush on a girl is going to save your pathetic soul? There’s only one way to do that now, you fucking…”_

_The word sent fire through Bucky’s body. It hurt even more than Hank striking him again. This hit was the hardest one so far. It knocked him over and Hank ripped Bucky’s shirt off. Scared and confused, Bucky whirled around to see Hank pulling his belt off._

_“What are you doing?!” He shrieked._   
_“Like I would **touch** a man that way,” He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “As if you even **are** a man. You’re barely even a **boy** at this point. But I’m not disgusting.” Hank snagged him by the arm and made him stand in front of his dresser. “Put your hands down.”_

_Shaking, and knowing it was usually better to just do what he wanted so it would be over quickly, Bucky did as he said._

_“Look at yourself.”_

_Bucky lifted his gaze to meet his own eyes in the mirror. His face was pale, his eyes red and teary._

_“Now what are you?”_

_A shiver ran through him. He knew what Hank wanted him to call himself. Bucky shook his head._

_“No.”_

_The end of the belt felt like fire running across his skin when Hank whipped it across his back. Bucky let out a shriek._

_“Oh, you will,” Hank insisted. “Let me hear you say it, you shit. You are a...what?”_

_Tears fell from Bucky’s eyes. He couldn’t help it. The pain that radiated through his body from the belt was so intense and he was utterly unprepared for it. Still, he shook his head again. So Hank dragged the belt across his back once more. And Bucky still wouldn’t say it. Hank hit him._

_“Say it.”_   
_“No.”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“No.”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“...No.”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“...N-no.”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“Please…”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“I don’t...I can’t...”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“Please, stop…”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“Please...I’m not…”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_   
_“Please, stop hitting me.”_   
_Hit._   
_“Say it.”_

_Bucky could feel blood running down his back. He could barely stand up anymore. His elbows shook and his body burned with pain. Swallowing every bit of himself in one gulp, he looked at his reflection. The tears were endless. And Bucky whispered it._

_“Say it again.”_  
 _Bucky said it again._   
_“Say it again.”_  
 _Bucky said it a little louder._  
 _“Say it again.”_  
 _Bucky said it._  
 _“Say it again.”_  
 _Bucky yelled it._  
 _Hit._

_“I won’t raise a shit like you,” Hank growled. “I will beat this out of you.”_

_Hank stormed out of the room. The minute the door closed behind him, Bucky collapsed to the floor. Curled up in a ball, he sobbed until he passed out._

_For six weeks it was the same thing. Every time his mother was working. Bucky tried to hold out, tried not to say it, but Hank always wore him down with the belt. Bucky always said it._

_It was the forty-fifth day. Bucky’s back was marked up with patches of yellow and purple bruises, all in various stages of healing, and scabs and ripped skin. It hurt to move. It hurt to be still. He just hurt. Bucky hurt everywhere. Outside, inside, everything hurt. When Hank came into his room, he just stared up at him, his eyes pleading._

_“Get up, you little…”_

_No matter how often he said it, the word continued to hurt. Bucky got up and shed his shirt. He stood by the dresser, hands where they belonged, and looked at his reflection. It wasn’t even recognizable anymore._

_“Say it.”_

_He couldn’t take the belt._   
_Not today._   
_Bucky said it._

_“What the hell is this?!”_

_At first Bucky was sure he was dreaming. His mother was set to work until ten o’clock. But there she was, standing in the doorway, a sickened and horrified look on her face._

_“Wendy, if you knew what your son was, you’d have no prob…”_   
_“You get the fuck away from my son!” She screamed. Bucky had never heard her yell at him with such conviction before. “Get away from him! Get away from him!”_

_She started shaking, rocking her head back and forth as though she lost her mind. And Hank mumbled a few swears and left. His mother raced over to him and went to wrap her arms around him, but instead just grazed his back carefully._

_“Oh Jesus, Bucky, what has he done to you?”_   
_Bucky was shaking so hard he thought he was going to throw up. “Mommy…”_   
_Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, baby, why didn’t you say something?”_   
_“I...Mommy, I…” He was suddenly filled with hatred for her. She had come in. She had stopped it. She wouldn’t let it happen again. But Bucky hated her. “This is all your fault! I hate you!”_   
_“Bucky…” She reached for his face. “Honey, please…”_   
_“No!” He tore away from her and flung his arms around. “You married him! You brought him here! I hate you!”_

_He paced back and forth, then grabbed his shirt and flung it back on._

_“Baby, I’m sorry,” His mother kept weeping over and over. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t…”_   
_“Fuck you,” Bucky grunted and left the house behind him._

_It was pouring out, but Bucky didn’t care. He wasn’t sure where he was going, he was just moving, pushing through the cold rain that soaked him in minutes._

_Bucky ended up at an old playground, one that most parents avoided since a few gangs started taking up residence there. He fell onto a bench and just sat there. Tears dripped down his face, washed away by the rain. Soon he was shivering and so confused he didn’t know what to do. So many emotions ran through him. Anger, fear, hopelessness...but it all formed on intangible thought._

_“Hey, you look like you could use a pick me up.”_

_The voice came from behind him. Bucky turned to see a boy just a few years older than him. He had an umbrella and stepped closer so it shielded Bucky from the rain as well._

_“I don’t need anything.”_   
_“Yeah, you do,” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “I can make you feel like a god. Make all your troubles disappear. I promise.”_   
_“I don’t want anything from you.” Bucky mumbled. “I...I don’t have any money anyway.”_   
_“First one’s on me, kid.”_

_Bucky looked up at him again. He needed to get away from everything. From Hank, his mother, the pain...all the pain._

_“Come on, kid,” He said to Bucky. “Let’s get out of the rain, go somewhere dry.” Bucky got up and went with him. “I’m Niko by the way. You’ll want to remember that.”_

“That was the first time,” Bucky shuddered. “It only took that one for me.”

He was on the couch next to Steve again and allowed him to put his arm across his shoulders. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” Steve said. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through that.”  
Bucky nodded. “Alex kept him away. Alex got me away from all of it. Don’t you see, Steve? Alex…”  
“Bucky...You...you do know your mother isn’t with him anymore, don’t you?”

A twinge of guilt nipped at Steve’s stomach when Bucky pulled away and stared at him. He didn’t know that. Steve knew it because he’d read it in the files Tony got for him. 

“What?”  
“Your mother divorced him after you went missing. She even changed her name back to Barnes.”  
“How...how do you know that?” Bucky’s eyes got hard. “Did you do some kind of check on me?”

Steve didn’t want him to be angry, but he didn’t want to lie to him. He needed him to trust him.

“I...yeah, I did, but that was before I knew you, before I even came to the restaurant that night.”  
“So, you just dug up dirt on me? You looked into my life?” His voice started rising. “What the hell, Steve? Why would you do that?”  
“Bucky, I was trying…” He didn’t want to tell him that he was trying to use him to get to Pierce. “I was doing my job.”  
“Cause that’s all I am, aren’t I?” He yelled. “I’m just your job!”  
“No!” Steve stood up and held Bucky’s face. “I swear, Bucky, that’s not it. When I say I love you, I mean it. I mean just that. I love you.” He closed his eyes for a second. “Look, I did do a background check on you, I admit that, but it really was before I _knew_ you. The longest conversation we had was at the diner, when you apologized for being naked.”

In spite of himself, Bucky gave a quick, tiny little grin. But it vanished quickly. 

“Steve, I...I don’t know how to think.” He sighed. “I just...I can’t even think straight with you around. You make me...you make me feel things and think things that…”

He stopped talking, looked deep into Steve’s eyes and pressed his lips into his. Steve kissed him back, their mouths moving this way and that for several minutes until Steve broke the kiss. 

“Bucky…”  
“I know,” He sighed. “We can’t do this. Just...I want you, Steve. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”  
“Why shouldn’t you, Bucky?” Steve wondered. “It’s okay to feel things for people.”  
“Not me,” He argued. “I...I owe it to Alex to be with him. It’s not up to me if we end. That’s up to him.”  
“No, Bucky,” He countered. “You can leave whenever you want.”  
“I can’t, Steve,” Bucky stated. “I agreed to be his boy.”  
“You do realize how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve said.   
“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, his voice wobbly and pleading. “Please. Please, don’t do this.”

The imploring look on his face broke Steve’s heart. He couldn’t keep crushing him. Not like this. Steve needed to be patient. He pressed his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”  
“I know,” His voice cracked, but he remained in the same position. “I know that things are...strange. I can’t...make sense of things right now. Steve, please, promise me you won’t go anywhere.”  
“Come here,” Steve pulled them both down to the couch and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky shivered a bit and snuggled into his chest. Steve felt as though he could rip something apart. No wonder Bucky couldn’t see what Pierce was. Even the streets were better than what he’d experienced.   
Steve wasn’t going to give up though. That wasn’t even an option, never had been for Steve. He could already see the changes in Bucky, the seed of doubt that had been planted just by experiencing the affection and love Steve tried to give to him. 

Bucky needed him. And Steve would be there. 

Just like he promised.


	25. Quarter of a Hundredth

_Fuck you._

That was the last coherent thing Bucky could remember saying to his mother. It was over thirteen years ago but he could still hear the words, feel them leaving his lips, and see the hurt and desperation on her face.

_Fuck you._

No wonder she never wrote back to him. After he said that to her, he’d been gone for three days, showed up back home and then was gone for weeks at a time. He could remember her yelling, remember her crying, remember her pleading, remember her trying to hug him. But he couldn’t recall one thing he ever said to her. Not after that.

_Fuck you._

There were memories of Hank, of his fists slamming into him after he stumbled home whenever his mother happened to not be there. Bucky knew he left there black-and-blue and stiff and sore several times. The fear of Hank was still there, still real no matter how long he was gone for. The pain was there, over and over again, every time he crashed. But he couldn’t remember saying anything to his mother. 

_Fuck you._

School was hazy in his mind somewhere. Bucky continued to go, for a little while, maybe for another year or so. He was pretty sure he was a Freshman when he finally stopped. Teachers tried to talk to him. Guidance counselors set up meetings. They talked about his future, maybe, or maybe him losing his future. Bucky wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t remember anything he ever said to his mother.

_Fuck you._

One night, when he was cold and hungry and needed to score but was too cold and hungry, Bucky found his way back home. But the locks were changed on the door. Bucky could still recall slamming his fists against it, pounding on it because he so desperately wanted to get inside. He missed his bed. He missed the warmth. He missed his mom. 

Only it wasn’t his mother he heard yelling from inside. It was Hank, and from what Bucky could tell he was storming through the house as he came to see who had woken him up in the middle of the night, ready to meet them with violence. Fear pushed him away, and Bucky ran, still able to hear Hank’s yells as he did. He never went back after that. 

Hank was gone now. His mother left him. She had divorced him. According to Steve anyway. There was no reason for him to lie about that though, and anyway, Steve couldn’t lie. He was terrible at it. Bucky knew he was telling the truth. That just made things harder. 

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about his mom, about how she didn’t answer any of his letters, how she left Hank, how she looked when he said the last thing he could remember saying to her. He thought about what Steve said. He thought about what he overheard Mr. Rumlow say. Bucky couldn’t stop thinking. Four days had gone by and he couldn’t stop thinking. It hurt. 

“I want to use,” he told Steve over the phone one late night. “I want to so badly.”  
“No you don’t, Bucky,” Steve comforted. “You know you don’t. You’re strong. You’re upset, but it will pass. I promise. You can do this.”  
“Steve,” Bucky whimpered into the phone. “I’m scared.”  
“I know, baby,” He replied softly. “You’re going to be okay. You are. You’re so strong, Bucky.”  
“Steve?” He cried, tears he had been holding back finally coming out.   
“Yeah?”  
“I miss my mom.”

Bucky continued to cry into the phone as Steve murmured words of comfort and did what he could to soothe him. He even suggested going to Alex. That, Bucky knew he couldn’t do. If he did, he’d have to give him some sort of explanation for these recent and intense cravings. Steve stayed on the phone with him until Bucky fell asleep. 

When he woke up, the phone was next to his face and still connected. He held it up to his ear and could just make out the sounds of Steve’s soft breathing. 

“Steve?”  
“Hey,” He said. “You’re awake.”  
“Did you...did you stay on that whole time?”  
“Of course,” Steve sounded surprised by the question. “I wanted to be here for you if you woke up and needed me again. Are you feeling better?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. More tears pricked at his eyes, but they were coming from somewhere warm inside of him. 

“Yeah, I’m...I’m okay,” Even he could hear the hitch in his voice. “I’ll be okay.”  
“Aw, Bucky, please don’t cry,” Steve soothed, although it almost sounded like he was about to as well. “Everything is going to be okay.”  
“I know,” Bucky whispered. He really wasn’t sure why he was even crying now. “I’m sorry I kept you up.”  
“That’s all right,” Steve assured him.   
“Can you do something else for me, Steve?”  
“Anything.”  
“Go to sleep now,” Bucky requested. “You need sleep.”  
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” He gave a soft, unconvincing chuckle. “But only if you promise me something.”  
“What’s that?”  
“You’ll call me again if you think you have to. No matter what.”

Some more tears hit him hard enough that he needed a second before he could answer. 

“I promise.”  
“Listen, you don’t have to say anything to this, but,” Steve hesitated. “I love you, Bucky. I just want to remind you of that.”

Bucky smiled through his tears. He wanted to return the sentiment. He needed to. But he didn’t. Because he couldn’t. 

“Thank you, Steve.”  
“I’ll talk to you later.”

As soon as the call was ended, Bucky curled into a ball. The phone was still by his ear even though there was no one there.

“I love you too, Steve.” He whispered. 

Giving himself a few more minutes to wallow in his misery, Bucky finally took in a deep breath and got out of bed. It was still early, Alex was probably just getting up. Bucky didn’t usually get up until later than this, but he couldn’t go back to sleep. He felt so bad that he had kept Steve up all night. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t understand why Steve wouldn’t have just hung up after he fell asleep on him. 

After washing up, Bucky figured he should go get himself something to eat. It’s what Steve would want him to do. He needed to be strong. Actually, according to Steve, he needed to _stay_ strong. Not eating wouldn’t help. 

When he stepped out of the bedroom, Alex was coming down the hall. He paused and smiled when he saw him. 

“Good morning, my boy,” He greeted. “You’re up early.”  
Bucky made himself grin. “Yeah. I, uh, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so…”  
Alex came right up to him and touched his face. “What’s wrong? Bucky, are you okay?”  
“Oh, yeah,” He lied. “I’m fine. I’m just...I don’t know.”

The expression Alex first gave him was one of doubt. He rattled his head like he was imagining things and moved away. 

“Okay.”

Bucky felt like he was going to fall to pieces. He didn’t know what he expected from Alex. All he knew was that Steve wouldn’t leave him like that. Bucky had no idea what to do with that. He just wanted Alex to show him that he loved him still, that he mattered. 

“Bucky?” Alex had stopped right by the top of the stairs. “Come here.”

Without even thinking about it, Bucky listened to him and went over. There, Alex put his arm around Bucky’s waist. 

“You look like you could use a hug,” He said. “Do you want to spend the day together?”

Swelling with more bliss and peace than he’d felt in days, Bucky lit up with a huge smile. 

“Yes!” He beamed with pure excitement. “Oh, could we, Alex?”  
Alex chuckled and took out his phone. “Renata, cancel my day. I’m spending it with my boy instead.” He paused. “I understand that I have a meeting with Mayor Stern. Cancel it.” 

Bucky thought he was going to burst with excitement. Alex had just canceled a meeting with the mayor just for him, because he wanted to do that for him. Steve was wrong, he just had to be. Look at what Alex was doing for him. Bucky hadn’t asked for this. He was just giving it to him. 

Looping his arm around Bucky’s, Alex escorted him down to the dining room so they could eat breakfast together.  
Where Bucky thought about his mom, and Steve, and what he’d overheard Mr. Rumlow say.

They spent most of the morning in and by the pool. It was gorgeous out, the sun shining brightly and the day nice and hot. The water was perfect and they floated around together.  
Still, Bucky thought about his mom, and Steve, and what he’d overheard Mr. Rumlow say.

For lunch, Alex had food delivered from a nice restaurant. He ordered foie gras, which Bucky wasn’t all that fond of, but he dug into anyway since he knew what a rare plate it was. They stayed outside to eat on the patio, the staff bringing them whatever they needed.  
Bucky continued to think about his mom, and Steve, and what he’d overheard Mr. Rumlow say. 

After their meal, they went down to the beach and strolled along the shoreline. Bucky removed his shoes and let his feet get wet in the ocean. Alex held his hand, only letting go to move away from the water a few times. They chatted about this and that until they reached a sand dune where Alex pinned Bucky against the small, grainy pile and pressed himself against him. 

He lowered Bucky’s pants right there and started massaging his cock, slowly and steadily getting it hard. As he worked Bucky up further and further, even bringing his mouth in to add to it, Alex had Bucky step out of the pants. 

“We’ll come back for them,” He purred and then pulled on Bucky to make him come forward. 

They continued walking with Alex holding onto Bucky’s cock like a leash. Every now and then, he would start stroking or squeezing, even reaching over to fondle his balls in just the right way to make him whimper and begin to stagger.

“Stand up straight, Bucky,” He taunted, giving him a wicked smile as Bucky attempted to do just that.   
“Alex,” Bucky whined. “Please, can I…”  
“Not yet.” Alex said, backing off and not letting him get any closer to finishing. 

Bucky whined and tried to listen to Alex so he could comment and respond like he was supposed to. With Alex handling him like that, it was extremely difficult. 

“Alex…” He whimpered.   
“Not yet, my boy.” He taunted, releasing his grip on him entirely. 

Alex put his arm just below Bucky’s waist, running his fingers softly up and down his side. It was just enough touch to keep Bucky right at the edge. 

“Who are you, Bucky?” Alex asked.   
“I’m…” He took in a deep breath, trying to control himself. “I’m your boy.”  
“And does my boy want to cum?”  
“Oh yes, please, Alex…”  
“Hmm,” Alex seemed to consider it, leaning in and kissing Bucky’s collarbone before stroking his hand up and down him again. “Do you _really_ want to?” 

Unable to control his trembling, Bucky steadied himself by grabbing onto Alex’s shoulders. 

“Shit, Alex, please don’t stop...please…”  
He sniggered. “Go ahead, my boy.”

Bucky let out a moan of relief, finally letting go of his inhibitions and no longer holding himself back. Within seconds he was shaking with the hit of the orgasm that Alex had let build up for quite some time. A loud groan tore through Bucky’s body, and he plopped his head down on Alex’s shoulder. Alex shook slightly with a chuckle. 

“Feel better?” He murmured into Bucky’s ear. 

Breathless and still trying to get ahold of himself, Bucky just turned his head over on his shoulder to look at him. 

“Yes,” He whispered. “Thank you.”  
“Good,” Alex smirked, wiping his hand across Bucky’s shirt. “Now go clean up so we can head back.”

Since Bucky had been facing the direction the wind was blowing when he finished, he was a bit of a mess. He headed towards the ocean and waded into the water. 

Where he thought about his mother, and Steve, and what he overheard Mr. Rumlow say. 

When they first got back to the house, Alex told the cook what he wanted for dinner--poached salmon, quail eggs and sparkling champagne, with creme brulee for dessert. After putting his order in, Alex took Bucky into the library. He sat down in one of the armchairs and had Bucky go pick out a book. He chose one of his favorite classics before sitting with in on the footstool across from Alex. Alex placed his barefeet on Bucky’s lap and settled back in his seat. 

“Go on, my boy.” He instructed. 

Bucky opened the book, thumbed through the first few introductory pages and got to where he needed to be. 

“The artist is the creator of beautiful things,” He read. “To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.”

Just seconds after he started, Bucky began to think about his mom, and Steve, and what he overheard Mr. Rumlow say. 

_Baiting him in with drugs._

That’s what Mr. Rumlow and John had been talking about. All Bucky could think about was if that was true. If Alex had intended on Bucky to fall back to drugs when he let him out on his own then...then...Bucky had no idea what that could mean. He didn’t want to believe it. It was just...when Bucky did mess up, the drugs were just there. He’d never gone out looking. He had given into the temptation on his own, that was true, but he never tried to get them himself. 

Like the first time, when Niko just happened to be at the club he was at. It didn’t make sense. Niko was a street dealer. There was no reason for him to have been there. Still he was. And, as with the first time he ever offered Bucky drugs, he gave the first bump to him for free.

_Just one. That’s all he planned on doing. Just one line, for old time’s sake. Bucky could handle that. He was sure of it. It was free. No one would have to know. He could do it. He did do it. Just one line._

_Two lines. Not that big of a deal, right? Just two. It would be okay. It didn’t cost all that much. Alex probably wouldn’t even notice the extra money he spent. Two wasn’t that bad._

_Three lines. He’d stop after three. Three was just the right amount. He didn’t need any after three._

_Four lines._   
_Five._   
_Six…_   
_Seven?_

_Bucky lost track. He didn’t know how much he did. He couldn’t really bring himself to care. Not when he was a god. Not with all the girls around him. Not with all the sex._

_He was in a bed, a king sized bed, in just his boxers. It was a hotel room, pretty wrecked from what he could tell when he opened his eyes. There were bottles of liquor--empty bottles of liquor--scattered everywhere. A coffee table was overturned, so was a lamp. Another lamp was shattered. Clothes were draped over different pieces of furniture throughout the room. In the bed with him were three girls. One of them had her arm over his chest. Laying in one of the chairs was Niko. They were all still passed out._

_Bucky scratched at his nose. His head felt like it was split open, his mouth was on fire, and his stomach growled. Still, he just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. Until the door burst open._

_Fear struck his body like lightning, blazing through him with such intensity he shot up in the bed. The girl with her arm over him fell to the side. The one on the other side of him jumped and screamed. At the end of the bed, the last girl covered her ears. Niko began to stir. Everything happened all at one. The door opening, the reactions everyone had, and Bucky squinting at whoever was coming in. Whoever it was came charging into the room, a few other people behind him. When he got closer, the fear that gripped Bucky turned to horror._

_“Wait, wait!” He pleaded to Rumlow as he stormed towards him, eyes narrowed and his lips set in a satisfied purse. “I can explain! Please just…”_

_He had no time to finish with his plea to be heard. Rumlow grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out of the bed, knocking one of the girls out with him. Bucky continued to plead with him, but Rumlow just snagged him by the hair and held his head straight. Someone slipped a burlap bag over his head while Rumlow slapped handcuffs around his wrists to hold his arms back._

_“Ow, ow!” Bucky cried as the metal dug harshly into his skin. He could feel the pressure already building inside of his hands. “Please take them off! They hurt!”_

_Instead of taking them off, Rumlow made them tighter and Bucky yelp. Bucky was being shoved forward, forced to walk at an incredibly quick pace with his senses obscured by the sack over his head._

_“Pay the man,” Rumlow said to someone. “And let’s go.”_

_Bucky was forced to move like that the entire time, even going down several flights of stairs. He fell more than once, and Rumlow, he assumed, hauled him back to his feet and made him keep going. He could feel it the second they got outside. Being in just boxers, the cooler winter air hit him like ice. His bare feet stepped on wet concrete, sloshing through puddles and stomping over painful gravel. Bucky begged the entire walk, even when Rumlow forced him to a rough stop._

_He heard some strange noise, like a popping sound and then he was shoved forward. Something slammed closed, and he felt darkness fall upon him. Bucky knew immediately that he was in the trunk of a car. Panic hit him, and hit him hard. Sure he was going to suffocate in there, he pleaded to be let out of the trunk.On his back, the handcuffs hurt even more, so he kicked around, trying to just do something, to get them to let him out. The car did jerk to a stop, making him roll around a bit._

_The trunk popped open again and Bucky prepared himself to be yanked out again. But instead, a fist landed against his face._

_“Shut up the fuck up.” Rumlow growled._   
_Blood pooled in Bucky’s mouth and leaked down his chin. “Please, I want to see Alex. Please let me see Alex.”_   
_“Mr. Pierce **doesn’t want** to see you.” Rumlow sneered and slammed the trunk closed again. _

_Bucky had no idea how long it took, but the fear that gripped him never lessened. His breaths backed up on him, his heart beat so fast he was sure it would burst. He needed to get out of the trunk before he passed out. This place, this tight, cramped, dark space, was like right out of his nightmare. When the car went off, he was taken from the trunk and brought somewhere he had to walk to again. Rumlow took the cuffs off when they got to wherever they were taking him and then shoved him. Bucky fell forward, landing on his hands and knees, and heard a door close. Ripping the bag off his head, Bucky’s heart fell when he saw where he’d been taken._

_“No,” He whimpered, glancing around the room he spent months and months in. “No, not again! Please!”_

_He got up and raced to the door, desperately trying to tear it open even though it was locked. Fists banging against it, Bucky screamed and cried and begged for Alex._

 

_Only Alex never came._

_Days and days and days went by, and Bucky was left alone with maddening withdrawal. It was worse this time. Or maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell._

_People came and went with food, but no matter how hard he begged them to talk to him, no one said a word. Not until Rumlow came in with food and let the plate of eggs drop onto the bed._

_“Rumlow, tell me where Alex is.” Bucky demanded. “Where is Alex?”_

_Rumlow didn’t answer. He just came in and slugged him right in the jaw. Toppling off the bed, Bucky stared up at him and got a kick in the gut._

_“You get your place now, kid?” Rumlow growled. “I don’t answer to you. Ever. Got it?”_

_Bucky needed to catch his breath so he nodded. But that made Rumlow snatch him up and shake him once._

_“What? I can’t hear you.”_   
_“Yes,” He forced out of his wind pipe. “I get it.”_   
_“And you’re gonna start showing me a little more respect,” He hissed. “Isn’t that right?”_

_He had raised his fist up like he meant to punch him again and Bucky shuddered._

_“Yes, I will…” He gulped and looked up at him, his eyes pathetic and weak. “Mr. Rumlow.”_

_Mr. Rumlow dropped him to the floor and hovered over him._

_“Mr. Pierce doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want anything to do with a filthy junkie.”_

_Bucky burst into tears. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold them back. Not when Mr. Rumlow said such an earth-shattering thing Bucky knew to be true._

_“Please, please tell him I’m sorry,” He cried, on his knees and clutching the end of Mr. Rumlow’s shirt. “Please, Mr. Rumlow, please just tell him that. I know I fucked up. I know, but I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”_

_Mr. Rumlow put his foot against Bucky’s chest and pushed him away. Bucky smacked up against the bed._

_“I won’t do anything for you.”_

_He stormed out of the room then, and Bucky went hysterical. He couldn’t take this. Not again, not this time, not like this, not without Alex._

_“I want my mom,” He murmured into his pillow when he climbed back on the bed. “Mommy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

_Alex finally did come for him, for that Bucky would always be grateful. It was a month later, and he didn’t say a word when he opened the door. Bucky at been sitting on the edge of the bed, just staring at the floor. Unlike last time, he hadn’t been provided with anything to keep himself busy with. When the door opened, and he saw Alex there, he broke down._

_“I’m sorry,” He whispered, tears running down his face. “I’m sorry, Alex.”_

_He just glared at him from the doorway. Then he stepped away from it, going back the way he came. But he left the door open. Bucky ran after him._

_“Alex!”_   
_“You know where the door is, James,” He grumbled. “I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.”_   
_“No!” Bucky cried. “No, Alex, please don’t make me leave. I’m begging you, let me stay, please!”_

_Alex swirled around to face him, marching back over and standing so close to him that Bucky could feel the anger coming off his body._

_“Why would I let you stay?” He growled. “After all the hard work I put into you, you just throw it away for that shit. No, James, you cannot stay. I thought about it these past few weeks, but no. I won’t keep you.”_

_Desperate and hopeless, Bucky lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist. He slipped down to his knees and wept into his stomach._

_“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t get rid of me.” He begged, arms tight around him. “Please, Alex, please. I’ll never do it again. Never.”_

_Alex was stiff in his embrace and said nothing for a long time. All the while Bucky shook and whimpered soft pleas of mercy._

_“Who are you?” Alex finally asked._   
_From on his knees, Bucky glanced up at him, face tear streaked and eyes red. “Your...your boy?”_  
 _“Maybe,” He replied, his tone cold and guarded. “Do not make me regret this.”_  
 _Bucky shook his head back and forth. “No, no I won’t. I swear.”_  
 _“You lose all your privileges, you understand me?” He scolded. “You get nothing, you have nothing unless I grant you that luxury.”_  
 _“Yes, Alex,” Bucky would accept any consequence he bestowed upon him so long as he allowed him to stay with him. “I understand.”_  
 _“Stand up.”_

_Bucky did what he was told and Alex looked him up and down._

_“Follow me,” he said. “You need some clothes.”_

_Having been in only a pair of boxers the whole time he was locked away--using the hand soap in the bathroom to keep them clean--Bucky was grateful to finally be given the chance to change._

_Later that very same night, with Alex’s permission, Bucky sat on the floor by Alex’s desk and wrote his mother the first of many, many unanswered letters._

It happened again eighteen months after that. And then again almost three years past that. The three slip ups were all the same. They happened in the exact same manner. Bucky would be out on his own, on a free day, and Niko found him. A few days later, Mr. Rumlow, having been searching for him, would figure out where he was and bring him back to Alex--always in the dreaded trunk of the car. Coincidence. It _had_ to be. But...if it wasn’t…

“The girl laughed again,” Bucky was reading. “The joy of a caged bird was in her voice. Her eyes caught the melody, and echoed it in radiance…”  
“Bucky?”

He had trailed off and fallen silent. Bucky rattled his head, focused his eyes on the page he was reading and tried again. His mouth opened and then closed before he formed a word. Bucky sighed. 

“I’ve, uh, I’ve been...thinking.” He said, approaching the subject with caution.   
“That’s never a good idea,” Alex snickered when Bucky looked up at him. “What have you been thinking about?”

Turning the book over in his hands, Bucky set it aside and started to rub Alex’s feet, which were still resting on his lap. He concentrated on that task, letting his eyes focus on what he was doing. 

“I was thinking about…” He bit his lip and the rest of it came out below a whisper. “Mom.”  
“What?” Alex asked. “Speak up, my boy, I can’t hear you.”

Bucky cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Mom.” He murmured. “I’ve been thinking about my mom.”

The second he said it, Alex pulled his feet back and sat up straight in the seat. Bucky made an awkward attempt to look up at him. 

“Okay,” Alex replied. “What about her?”  
“Well, I, I mean, I just wondered if…” He wasn’t sure how to word this. “Do you know if she’s still married to him?”

Though Bucky already knew the answer to that, he felt the need to ask. He just wanted to see what he would say. Alex looked out at him like he was thinking hard about something. For some reason, Bucky felt guilty. Maybe it was because he was testing Alex. Alex took in a deep breath through his nostrils and shook his head. 

“I’m not sure,” He answered. “I can probably find out for you. Do you want me to?”

That would be a good way to confirm what Steve had told him. 

“Could you, Alex?”  
“What’s going on Bucky?” Alex wondered, leaning forward in the chair.  
“I just...miss her,” Bucky replied honestly, one of the first truly honest things he’d answered with in days. “I miss her, Alex.”  
Alex nodded. “Okay. Well, why don’t you go upstairs and shower? Take a rest and I’ll get you for dinner.”

Just staring for a moment, Bucky wished he could ask for some comfort. He wanted Alex to hold him the way Steve would have held him if he said these things to him. Why wasn’t he comforted by Alex anymore? Alex was everything to him. He had been for thirteen years. Now, things were starting to change. 

“Yeah, okay,” He replied and started to get up. 

Right before he would have moved away from the footstool he’d been sitting on, Alex took hold of his hand. That made butterflies fill his stomach. Finally, he gave him some affectionate contact. 

“Just a second,” He held Bucky’s hand with both of his. “Who are you?”  
Bucky smiled. “Your boy.”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”  
“For me to be happy.”  
Bringing his hand to his lips, Alex kissed the top of it. “Good boy. Go on.”

Doing as he was told, Bucky went back up to his room to shower. As he left the library, he kissed the spot on his hand where Alex’s lips had been. 

***

Alex was quiet while they were eating dinner. Every time Bucky tried to get him to start talking like they had been doing all day, he would only get a little bit of chit chat from him. Regret began to slithering into Bucky’s heart. He was sure he had done something to upset him, only he couldn’t think of what. He had done all that he asked when they parted earlier. He’d gone upstairs, showered, relaxed, even fell asleep until Alex came to get him. 

Bucky pushed the salmon around his plate. His stomach was turning enough that he was losing his appetite. 

“Don’t play with your food, Bucky.” Alex stated from across the table. “Eat your supper.”

Frowning, he did just that and pierced a piece of it with his fork. Bucky brought it to his lips, but didn’t eat it right away. His thoughts brought him back to what Mr. Rumlow had said about him being a puppet. He put the fork down. 

“No.” He said.

Alex had been looking at his phone when he spoke. The second the word, which felt strange and did odd things to Bucky’s stomach, came out of his mouth, Alex glanced up. His eyes went from Bucky’s face, down to the fork with a piece of salmon still on it, and up to Bucky’s face again. 

“Excuse me?”  
“I-I don’t feeling like eating right now.”  
“Is that so?” Alex hard glare made Bucky’s insides twist in unspeakable pain. “That’s fine.” He motioned for one of the staff members. “Take his plate. He’s done for the night. And do not serve him anything unless I say it’s okay for him to eat.”  
“No!” Bucky had gone on food rations before, and had no desire to be on it again. “No, please, I’m sorry,” He grabbed for the fork but the man coming for the dish got to his setting first and took it away. “I want to eat! I do!”  
“Oh sure, _now_ you want to eat.” Alex spoke swiftly and firmly, keeping his voice calm and low. “Of course you want to eat now. That’s too bad. You’re not going to.” He shook his head. “I thought we had a very nice day together and this is how you repay me? Here I am, trying to figure out how to talk to you about your mother and what I found out when I spoke to her, and you act like a child. Well if you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one. Go to bed, James.”

Numbness crept in through all Bucky’s muscles. Alex had talked to his mom. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, but had no idea if they fell or not. 

“You talked to her?” He whispered. “You talked to my mom?”  
Alex didn’t look back at him. “Go to bed, James.”

Bucky’s face crumpled and he got up to lumber back to his room. Before he was out of the dining room, he turned again. 

“Please tell me what she said,” He cried. “Please, Alex. I miss her so much.”  
“Go to bed!” Alex yelled, his voice echoing through the room. 

Twirling around, Bucky sprinted up to his room. He slammed the door closed and leaned up against it. Heartbroken and defeated, he slid down to the floor. Bucky just sat there, he didn’t know what to do or what to think. Alex had spoken to his mom and he wouldn’t tell him what she said. Pain crashed down on him and Bucky somehow made his way over to his bed. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was in there crying. It could have been a few minutes or it could have been hours. He’d been tempted to call Steve, but didn’t. What would he tell him? How could he understand? Curled up in a ball, he just laid on top of the covers. 

“Bucky?” 

Alex’s hushed voice made his heart freeze. He didn’t move. 

“Bucky, are you awake?”

Yes, he was awake, wide awake. But he didn’t want to roll over to tell him that. Because he was mad. Bucky was so angry at Alex he could scream. When he felt the hand on his shoulder though, he couldn’t help it. He turned just enough for Alex to see his face. In his other hand, Alex held a plate. He set it down on the nightstand and sat down next to Bucky.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” He said. “Why do you make me do things like this? I don’t want to cause you pain. You’re my boy. I love you.”

At those words, Bucky flipped to his other side and held onto Alex. He pressed his face into his side to try to keep from crying harder. 

“I don’t know,” He wept. “I’m sorry, Alex.”  
“You have to stop doing things like this to me, Bucky. I’m only trying to look out for you.”

Alex wrapped him up in his arms and pulled him up higher so that his head rested on his chest. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Bucky admitted.   
“You’ve been different lately.” Alex said. “I’m starting to wonder if Steve Rogers has anything to do with your more recent, defiant behavior.” Bucky felt nauseas. “Is that the thanks I get for giving you time to see a friend? A friend I’m _allowing_ you to have?”  
“No, it’s not him,” He lied. He needed to keep Steve out of this. There was no way he could risk losing Steve now. “I just...I’ve just been…”  
“Here,” He didn’t let him finish, and had reached over to hand him the plate. “Finish your meal.”

A bit of relief trickled in. At least he wouldn’t be hungry. Not wanting to push his luck, Bucky dug right into the food. Alex had even had it warmed up for him. 

“Can...can I have food?” Bucky asked. “When…” He shook his head. “Am I still on food rations?”  
“Yes, you are.” Bucky’s face fell. “I’m not letting that slide.”

Bucky nodded. He even understood. His behavior was completely unacceptable. It was his own fault that he was being punished, just like Alex told him all those years ago. If he had just listened to him in the first place and eaten his dinner, none of this would have happened. Alex had just wanted him to eat his dinner--there was no excuse for what Bucky did. 

“She’s not with him anymore,” Alex said out of nowhere.  
Bucky froze and lifted his eyes off the plate. “What?”  
“Your mother. She left that man just after you went missing. She even took your father’s name back.”

So Steve hadn’t been lying. He was right. That meant his mom was safe. Bucky continued on eating the food he had first denied then been denied. He was almost finished when Alex said something. 

“She…” He paused. “She wants to see you.”

A bubble of hope popped in Bucky’s stomach. It almost made him delirious with the amount of it. 

“She...does?”  
“Yes,” Alex told him. “I’ve made the necessary arrangements for you to have a free day tomorrow. You’ll be dropped off at the diner you love so much. She wants to meet you for lunch.”  
“You did that for me?”  
Alex tilted his head. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t keep a mother and son from one another. Not if they wanted to see each other.”  
“I...I don’t know what to say.”  
“You don’t have to say anything,” He said, picking the plate up since it was pretty much empty. “You’re my boy. I love you. And I want you to be happy.”  
“Oh, Alex,” Bucky lowered his head, feeling so ashamed of how he acted. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”  
“I know, my boy,” He replied, slipping his fingers under Bucky’s chin to raise it up. He kissed him. “Now, get some sleep. It’s late, and you have a big day ahead of you.”

Bucky couldn’t believe the elation the swelled within him. After all these years, his mom finally wanted to see him again. Maybe she wasn’t as ashamed of him as he thought. Or perhaps she had moved past it. Either way it didn’t matter. She wanted to see him. And Bucky could finally have the chance to fix his last words.


	26. I'm Really Thirsty But Here's Chapter Twenty Six Anyway

When Bucky woke, much later than he intended, there was a knot in his stomach. Despite being unbelievably excited that he would finally be seeing his mom, the nerves that worked through him almost made him not want to go at all. Chewing on his fingers, he tried to figure out all the things he wanted to say to her. He thought about all the things he _should_ say to her as well. Nothing seemed good enough. 

Forgetting he was on food rations, Bucky had gone down to the kitchen, only to be sent away again. Food rations were horrible, but Alex never let him go too hungry. It was having to get the permission to eat which was the worst. His stomach was already really queasy, thanks to all the nerves that flittered through him. Still, he knew it was better to eat something than leave on an empty stomach. Bucky went to find Alex and was allowed to have some toast and jam. 

Since he slept in--Bucky kept tossing and turning, waking up several times during the night--he rushed around to get ready. He showered in an attempt to calm himself down, letting the hot water soothe his tense muscles. For a long time he stood in front of his closet, trying to figure out what he should wear. He wanted to look nice for her, so she would see him at his best. They were just going to the diner though, so the thought of wearing a suit seemed a little ridiculous. Jeans seemed too casual. After almost thirty minutes, Bucky chose a deep purple colored shirt and a pair of black slacks. 

Turning from side to side in front of the full length mirror, Bucky was sure she would find something disapproving about him. He changed into a different shirt and then put the purple one back on again. No matter what he did, he didn’t think he looked good enough for her. Bucky sighed and lowered his head. 

“You’re wearing your hair like that?”

Flipping his head back up, Bucky looked at Alex through the mirror. He was coming up behind him to place his hand on his shoulder. 

“Um, yeah,” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. “Mom always liked it this way.”

He had let his hair dry naturally, putting only a little gel in it to keep it neat. Rather than styling it back or into a quaff, he let it hang down, the very ends of it touching his temple. 

“Okay,” Alex sounded disappointed. 

He always liked it styled up. Bucky turned to face him.

“Do you want me to change it?”

Though he didn’t want to style it differently, Bucky would if only to suck up to Alex a little bit. 

“No that’s fine. You keep it the way it is.”  
“Okay,” Bucky nodded. “Alex?”  
“Yes?”  
“I’m really nervous.” His voice lowered.   
Alex draped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Of course you are. She hasn’t wanted to see you in over a decade for pretty good reasons. But I’m sure you’ll do fine, my boy.”  
Bucky rubbed his face. “Do you think I”ll make her happy?”  
“I don’t know. But I know you make me happy.”

That made Bucky smile a little. Only he wished that Alex would give him kind words of comfort, the way Steve would if he knew what was going on today. 

“You’d better get a move on,” Alex said, giving Bucky’s backside a tap. “You don’t want to keep her waiting.”  
“Yeah, o-okay,”  
Alex gave him a meaningful look, his lips twisted and eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you even want to go?”  
“Yes,” Bucky squeaked. “Yes, I do. I’m just...I’m nervous.”  
He nodded and caressed his face. “You’ll do fine. Just behave yourself and you can have all the time you need. Call your escorts when you’re ready to be picked up.” Alex started to leave. “Not _too_ late, Bucky.” He warned. “I want you to enjoy some time with your mother, but, keep it reasonable.”  
“I understand.”  
Alex gave him a smile. “Good luck, my boy.”

***

Bucky sat at the same booth he was in the morning he first met with Steve. He hoped it would bring him some luck when he mom got there. His knees shook up and down, both of them, and he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Knots pulled tightly in his stomach, his tongue kept running across his teeth, and he kept looking around like she would appear out of nowhere. 

The waitress that Steve was friendly with, Marlene, wasn’t there today. Bucky wasn’t familiar with any of the servers there, so none of them particularly went out of their way to make sure he had everything he needed like Marlene would. Though Bucky had gotten there twenty minutes early, he was sitting there for forty minutes already. 

Toes tapping on the floor, Bucky pulled his phone out again to check the time. They were supposed to meet at 12:30. It was almost one o’clock already. There was a strange tightness in Bucky’s chest that was making it hard for him to breathe right. It was packed in there today, almost every table filled. Families sat together, kids laughing with their parents, friends chatting away, people on lunch breaks. The place was loud and crowded.

“Do you want to order anything?” The waiter came up and asked.   
“Oh, um,” He supposed it would be nice to have a meal waiting for his mom if she was running late. “Yeah. I’ll have a tuna melt and someone is meeting me, so she’ll have the BLT with extra bacon.”  
“Drinks?”  
“Two sodas is fine.”

Bucky supposed that maybe his mom’s favorite sandwich had changed, but perhaps the gesture would still mean something to her when she got there. The waiter walked away with a nod to put his order in. Sipping on the water that he had, Bucky sucked a piece of ice into his mouth and chewed on it. He scrolled through his phone and decided to play a game to pass the time while he waited. 

He kept staring out the window, searching for any signs of her. After a while, he started to wonder if Alex got the diner wrong. That would be impossible. This was his favorite diner. Alex knew that. Bucky sucked down the soda he ordered in minutes. A chill ran through to his bones and he got another. 

When the food he’d order came out, about twenty minutes after he asked for it, his mom still hadn’t gotten there. Chewing on his hands, Bucky picked a little at his tuna melt, chin in his hand and trying not to think the worst. She didn’t change her mind and decide not to come. That’s not what was happening. It couldn’t be. 

Then again, why wouldn’t she? After the hell he’d put her through why would she want to see him again? Ever? 

Bucky shook his head. Just because she wasn’t there yet didn’t mean she wasn’t coming. Now that she was on her own again, she probably had to work more than one job and maybe she was tired or overslept. He had overslept. She could have. Their old neighborhood wasn’t all that close. Maybe she got turned around. It was possible she had taken the wrong bus. Maybe...maybe…

“Maybe you got stood up?” 

Bucky glanced up at the server standing over the table. The food was ice cold by now and the place was emptied of the lunch crowd. Taking a peek at his phone, Bucky saw it was almost three. 

Emptiness wrapped around him. The devastation was so overwhelming Bucky thought he was going to burst out into tears right there. 

“Yeah. I guess I did.”  
The server gave him a sympathetic shrug. “Do you wanna wrap this stuff up?”

Looking straight ahead, Bucky shook his head. He pushed the plates towards the edge of the table. 

“No. Just give me…”

Before he could finish, the waiter put the check down on the table and without another word took the plates and left. Bucky brought the check up to the front to pay. He was numb. Even as the hostess who was handling the payment, taking the card and running it through, he felt nothing inside. It was like he couldn’t feel anymore. Not getting answers to letters was one thing. But to have this hope build up inside of him, hope that his mom wanted to see him, hope that he would have the chance to fill the missing piece of him even just for a little while, and to have that hope crushed was just too much to handle. 

Bucky didn’t remember walking out of the diner, but he was suddenly standing in front of it. Some tears built in his eyes though none of them fell. He was just standing there on the sidewalk. The hot summer’s sun beat down on him, the air unmoving. Like time itself stood still, Bucky saw nothing happening around him. He needed to make this stop. He needed to feel something--anything. 

At first, he took his phone out and just held it. Then he looked across the street. Instead of using the phone to do something he’d regret, he crossed the street to do just that anyway. 

Bucky rushed down the block, hurrying just to get to where he needed to be. There was still nothing inside of him, nothing but the new and urgent need. It didn’t take long to get there. Just a few blocks and he was on the street he needed. Steve even happened to be outside. From the looks of it, he was helping his neighbor, an elderly woman, with bringing her groceries inside. 

“Thank you so much, Steve,” She was saying.  
“Never a problem, Mrs. Frigga,” Steve said back to her, adding a wave. 

Right when he turned around to go back to his place, Bucky was behind him. Steve had opened his mouth, even started to say Bucky’s name, but Bucky latched his hands behind Steve’s head and crushed his lips into his. Giving Steve no time to react other than to kiss him back, Bucky pulled him towards his house. Steve went with him willingly, running his hands up and down Bucky’s sides as though he’d been dying to do it for ages. 

They crashed into the door, and since Bucky refused to break their rough kiss, Steve fumbled as he reached around him to pull it open. Stumbling into the living room, Steve ripped Bucky’s shirt up over his head. As soon as it was off, Bucky attached himself to Steve again, sucking the breath right out of him. He could feel Steve’s breathing start to pick up, even heard him moan. Bucky thrust his hips into Steve’s, grabbing onto his backside to pull his in suit. Steve’s hands moved all across Bucky’s bare back, his fingers pressing into his muscles whenever Bucky did something that made him breathe harder. 

Bucky backed up more and hit the side of the couch. He would have fallen onto it--and brought Steve with him--if Steve hadn’t kept them up. Still on his feet, Bucky brought his hands down to Steve’s belt and expertly undid it, unbuttoning his pants and slipping his hand inside. Steve groaned through the kiss when Bucky softly fondled his balls. Feeling him getting hard as he did so, Bucky lowered himself to his knees and took him in his mouth. Steve’s hips rocked slowly as he began to suck, pulling him in so deep he could feel himself start to gag. 

“Bucky…” Steve murmured. “Bucky…” His voice picked up a little more volume. “Wait…” 

Lips still wrapped tightly around Steve’s cock, Bucky shook his head. He had his hands gripped on Steve’s ass. Steve let out a moan, but started attempting to wiggle away from him. 

“Bucky…stop…”

Instead of listening, he just sucked harder and deeper, holding onto him tighter and bringing a grunt out of Steve. He didn’t want to stop. This made the pain go away, this made him feel again. Steve didn’t let up though. He took hold of Bucky’s shoulders and started to guide him back. Bucky tried to resist, tried to make it so that Steve wouldn’t want to make him stop. It didn’t work, and Steve had him off and brought him back to his feet. As soon as he was up, Bucky immediately started kissing his neck. 

“Bucky,” He moaned. “What’re you doing?”  
“I want you,” Bucky murmured in between sucking on Steve’s neck and collarbone. “I want you now.”

Steve was still trying to get him to back down while Bucky was trying his damndest to get him to just accept him. Hands around Bucky’s biceps, Steve finally used some of his real strength and held Bucky still while he took a step back. 

“Bucky, what are you doing?”  
“I’m _trying_ to have sex with you,” He huffed. “But you’re making it incredibly difficult.”   
Steve’s breaths were still not even. “Why?”  
“Because you’re not letting me have sex with you.”  
“Jesus, Bucky,” He grumbled. “I meant why are you trying to have sex me like this? What happened?”

Rather than answering, Bucky moved in to kiss him again, also lowering his hand in an attempt to grab onto him. Steve didn’t let him. 

“Damn it, Bucky,” Steve grunted. “Stop it.”  
“Why? Why won’t you just let this happen?”  
“Because I know something happened. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
Bucky rolled his eyes, his jaw crushed and nostrils flared. “Why does something have to be wrong? Can’t I just want to fuck?”  
“Yeah, you can, but that’s not what’s going on. What happened?”  
“Nothing!” Bucky lied. “Nothing’s wrong! For fuck’s sake, Steve, I just...I...just wanted to have sex with you. Is that so bad?”

Steve studied him for a moment, his face a tad bit confused. It smoothed out like he’d drawn a conclusion of some sort. 

“Bucky,” He said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that.”  
“There’s nothing to tell.”  
He looked disappointed, but Steve nodded with a shrug of his shoulder. “Okay. But I’m not having sex with you. Not like this.”

Steve pulled his pants back up and started to walk around Bucky towards the couch. Unsure if Steve was angry or just disappointed with him--and sorry about both of those--Bucky felt the regret hit him hard. Today was a total disaster. 

“She didn’t come.” He whispered, still facing away from Steve.  
Steve hadn’t come back over. “What?”

Turning to face him, Bucky didn’t have the strength or willpower to pull any sort of expression on his face. 

“She didn’t come.”  
“Who? Who didn’t come where?”

Bucky swallowed hard. 

“Mom,” He managed to get out. “She was supposed to meet me at the diner. She didn’t come.”  
Steve’s face fell. “You were supposed to see her today? Is that what happened?”  
“Yeah,” His voice squeaked as and he nodded. “Alex set it up. He called her last night. She said...said she wanted to have lunch. She didn’t come, Steve.”

The tears finally came. Bucky gasped for breath and the moment he did, Steve’s arms were around him. For a second, he thought about pushing him away. He’d rejected him once already. But he felt so warm and safe, and so Bucky cried in his embrace. 

“Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry,” Steve soothed. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
“Why did this happen?” He sobbed. “I feel like such an idiot.”  
“You’re not an idiot, baby.”

Steve held him tighter. 

“Yes, I am. I just miss her so much. I want to see her. I want to apologize. I want to tell her how much I love her. I miss my mom, Steve.”

He ran his hand up and down his back, giving Bucky affectionate and comforting squeezes as he did. 

“I know, Bucky. It’s going to be okay.”  
Bucky shook his head, his brow and nose rubbing against Steve’s shirt. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what I was even thinking. I deserve this. I deserve this for everything I’ve done anyway.”

Steve’s gentle embrace became stiff and hard around him. Though Bucky never wanted to come out of his arms, Steve pulled away and gave him an expression he’d never seen before. 

“What?” Bucky whispered. 

Eyes hard and jaw smashed together, Steve took a moment to compose himself before answering. 

“You listen to me, and you listen to me right now,” He demanded through clenched teeth. “You do. Not. Deserve this. Ever. You deserve to be loved, remember?”

Bucky couldn’t look up at him. He knew that Steve was wrong. It was easier knowing that Steve was wrong than trying to prove him right and failing again. 

“I do deserve it,” He sighed. “Don’t you get it, Steve? I’m a fuck up. I’ve deserved everything I’ve gotten. The streets, the drugs, my mother hating me...if Alex tosses me out I definitely deserve that...even Hank...I probably deserved that, too.”  
“Stop it,” Steve grunted. “Just stop it.”

He hadn’t realized it, but Bucky had started rocking his head back and forth. When he looked back up at Steve, he cringed. Steve was absolutely livid. 

“Steve…”  
“You _don’t_ deserve it.” He growled. “You _don’t_ deserve it. You _don’t_ deserve it. You _don’t_ deserve it.”  
“Stop it!” Bucky yelled, bursting away from him and moving to the other side of the room. “Yes I do, Steve! I _do_ deserve it! When the hell are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

But Steve just looked at him, kept his chin up and repeated his statement again and again.

“You _don’t_ deserve it.” He said firmly and unwavering. “You _don’t_ deserve it. You _don’t_ deserve it.”  
“Fuck, Steve, just cut it out! I do, okay?! I fucking do!” Steve kept saying it even as Bucky countered him. “You’ll see! I’ll prove it to you!”

Bucky grabbed the lamp off the end table and flung it at the wall. It cracked and shattered, the lampshade crumpling up. Steve stared at it for a second before lifting his gaze back to Bucky and saying it again. 

“You _don’t_ deserve it.”

Infuriated, Bucky flipped the coffee table and kicked one of the legs in half. When Steve went on, Bucky picked up the half of the leg that he’d broke off the table and stormed into Steve’s bedroom with it. He had to make him see. Bucky needed to make Steve understand how worthless he was, how undeserving of his love he was. That way he wouldn’t be too crushed when Steve finally realized it on his own and left. If Bucky just got him to admit it, then it wouldn’t be as hard to deal with. 

In Steve’s room, Bucky swung the piece of wood into the mirror, smashing it right in the center, a few shards of glass falling out. Since Steve pressed his lips together, but didn’t stop, Bucky went over to the painting he’d been working on that he’d showed him the first time he was here. Using the jagged edge of the broken leg, Bucky ripped through the canvas, once and then twice, making an X right through it. Sure that would provoke Steve enough into yelling at him, he spun around. 

“How bout now, Steve?” He mocked, his voice heavy with anger and furious determination. “You still think I don’t deserve it?”

Steve softly closed his eyes and sighed. Then he said it again with a slight shake of his head. 

“You _don’t_ deserve it.”  
“Shut up!” Bucky roared and finally took a swing at him.

His fist connected with Steve’s jaw. The hit made Steve take a step or two back, even made him sway to the side. It had been a while since Bucky hit anyone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember how. Living on the streets he’d had his fair share of fights, and had learned to defend himself well. 

Steve straightened up and wiped his mouth. He looked at the small smear of blood on the back of his hand before gazing up at Bucky again.

“Bucky,” he stated calmly. “You _don’t_ deserve it.”  
“Yes I do!”

He punched him again and Steve slammed back into the wall. Bucky braced himself. There was no way Steve wasn’t going to retaliate this time. He just had to. When Steve pushed off the wall, Bucky tensed and waited to be struck back, tensing so much that his eyes closed when Steve stepped forward with his arm out. Only instead of punching him, Steve gently touched his face. Bucky’s eyes popped open, his mouth agape, and he just stared at Steve’s warm and desperate expression. 

“I’m not gonna hit you, Bucky,” He assured him. “You _don’t_ deserve it.”

Face crumpling in all the pain he felt, Bucky pulled away from Steve and all the false hope he presented. It wouldn’t matter in the end. It wouldn’t. It just…

“No! God damn it, Steve, stop it! Please!”

Bucky started trashing the entire room, breaking anything he could break, throwing anything he could get his hand on. Not once did Steve try to stop him. Bucky flung framed pictures, and ripped up books, and tossed newspapers. It wasn’t until he held a bracelet--intent on pulling it apart--did Steve say something. 

“Please, Bucky,” His voice wobbled a bit. “Not that.”

The way his voice broke a little, and the way he almost pleaded with him made Bucky stop and look over. While Steve could have easily forced him to stop, knock him around to take the bracelet, he didn’t. He just asked him not to destroy it. Bucky looked at the piece of jewelry.

“Is this your mom’s?” Steve nodded. “So if I break it will you finally get it?” He added tension to it. “Will you finally admit that I’m a fuck up? Will you just get it over with and hate me and admit that I deserve it?”

Steve sucked in a deep breath and cracked something of a smirk when he released it. 

“No, Bucky.” He said. “I won’t hate you. I won’t tell you that you’re a fuck up. I won’t ever say that you deserve it. You _don’t_ deserve it.”

Out of breath and completely exhausted, Bucky gave one small tug on the bracelet before giving up. He dropped his arms down with an exasperated breath. Unable to look at him, Bucky handed the bracelet to Steve. Steve took it from him, gently taking it from his fingers, grazing them as he did. Having calmed down, Bucky looked around, surveying the mess and damage he’d down. 

“Oh, Steve…” He whispered, and completely horrified with himself glanced up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m…”  
“It’s all right, Buck,” Steve assured him. “I can clean it up. It’s just stuff.”

Despite what he was saying, Bucky was still too wary to go over to him, even though all he wanted was for Steve to hug him. 

“I don’t understand,” He admitted. “Why? Why don’t you hate me?”  
Steve sighed and held his arm out. “Come here, Bucky.”

Though he was still nervous, Bucky did just that and stepped into Steve’s embrace. Steve swathed his arms around him and rubbed his hands up and down his back. 

“I could never hate you, Bucky.” He comforted. “I love you. I’m going to prove that to you no matter what it takes.”  
Bucky rested his head against Steve’s chest. “Why?”  
“Because _that’s_ what you deserve.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky was too exhausted to argue anymore. He wasn’t even sure if he could, not with Steve holding him like this, especially after wrecking his things. Bucky didn’t know what to think, or how to feel anymore.

“I’m tired, Steve.” He murmured.   
Steve kissed the top of his head. “Do you want to lay down?”  
“Yeah,” Bucky whispered. “Will you stay with me?”  
“Of course.”

Since Bucky had tossed the pillows and blankets around during his fit, Steve gathered them back up as Bucky crawled into the bed. Steve joined him and immediately pulled him into his arms. 

Spooning with Steve, Bucky started to wonder if maybe Steve was right--right about everything. Maybe he did deserve better. Maybe he…

“Steve?”  
“Yeah, Buck?”  
“I…” Bucky gave Steve’s hands a squeeze and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I love you.”

Steve kissed the back of his neck and Bucky could feel the smile on his lips. 

“I love you, too, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been posting for a while and getting really awesome feedback. Thank you all who comment, leave kudos and/or have been sticking with this tale! 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr: 
> 
> thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com


	27. The World of Twenty-Seven

Steve held Bucky while he took his much deserved nap. His breathing was calm and even, so Steve could only hope that it was an indication the rage he felt inside wasn’t showing enough on the outside that it would disturb him. He hated Alexander Pierce even more than he already did. If it was up to him, he’d have the man ripped apart limb from limb for what he’d done to Bucky. Steve already knew that Bucky didn’t think highly of himself, but to hear just how little sense of worth he had, for him to truly believe that the abuse he’d endured could somehow be his fault, it was too much for Steve to bare. 

When Bucky told him he deserved all the pain he’d experienced, even the pain his step-father caused, Steve thought he was going to cry. He couldn’t take that--Steve _wouldn’t_ take that. Somehow, he needed to get through to Bucky that he was worth so much more than he’d been led to believe. The fit he threw, that tantrum that had him breaking Steve’s things, was Bucky’s way of trying to get Steve to lash out at him. Steve understood that, he got it. It’s what Bucky was obviously used to. That’s not what Steve would ever give him, not like that anyway. One way or another, he was going to prove to him that not everyone was going to hurt him. 

Once he finally calmed down--Steve could tell he badly needed to get that pent up tension and energy out, even if he tried to do it with angry sex first--Bucky looked so scared, so small and helpless. The fact that all of this started because the poor guy missed his mom killed Steve. There was nothing he understood more than that feeling. Steve would do anything to see his mother again. Bucky _could_ do that. He’d been denied it. Thing was, he assumed it was his mother that didn’t want to see him, that his mother didn’t think he was worth seeing, and he agreed with her. Steve highly doubted that was the case though. 

One thing did ease a smile onto his face. Bucky told him he loved him. Steve hadn’t expected that. It was quite possible that he’d said it because of the plethora of emotions attacking him from all directions, pulling and tugging at his heart and soul, but he still said it. That made Steve giddy. He couldn’t help it. 

So when Bucky started to wake, rolling onto his back and smiling like a Cheshire cat when he seemed to put together where he was and who he was with, Steve kissed his cheek.

“Hey, you,” Steve greeted. “Sleep well?”

It had only been about forty-five minutes, but the deep, peaceful expression on his face was the most comfortable he’d ever seen on Bucky. 

“Yeah,” Bucky sounded surprised. “Yeah, I really did.” He looked around and must have noticed the mess again since his face filled with dread. “Steve, I’m…”  
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Bucky. I already told you; it’s okay.”

Snuggled up against him, Bucky glanced up to look in his eyes and sighed contently. 

“I’ll never understand you, will I, Stevie?”

Steve kissed his brow. 

“Actually, I fully intend on making you aware just how much I love you and why.”

He pulled his eyebrows up. 

“Oh really? And how do you intend on doing that?”  
Steve leaned in to whisper in his ear. “By making you understand just how much you’re really worth.”

When he pulled back, Bucky was giving him a bashful grin, a blush darkening his cheeks. Some sadness touched his eyes as well, but he made no attempts to argue with him. While he clearly didn’t fully believe in his words, Steve thought he might actually be cracking through that stubborn shell of his. 

With that little smirk still on his mouth, Bucky tucked his bottom lip under his teeth and moved up to kissed Steve. This kiss was different from earlier. There was no urgency to it, no anger or heat. Well, there was heat, but it was passion. Bucky’s hand moved across Steve’s thigh, creeping closer and closer to his crotch. Nothing about this was the same as before. Still, Steve wasn’t sure about it. He put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and gently pushed him back. 

“Bucky…”  
“No, Steve, it’s not like that,” he said. “I swear, I promise.”  
Steve sighed. “You can’t keep covering up your feelings with sex, Buck.”  
“No, I’m not!” He swore. “I just, I love you, Steve,” Hearing him say the words again, when he wasn’t so emotional, made Steve’s heart swell. “I want to have you. Please, will you let me?”

This was the total opposite of how he behaved the last time this came up. Steve touched his face.

“What about Pierce?”

Bucky closed his eyes and winced. It looked like that question hurt him. To cause him any amount of pain was the very last thing Steve wanted to do, but something told him Bucky wasn’t thinking this through. Doing this would cause him even more pain in the long wrong. Steve would do what he could to spare him that. 

“I know I should care, and I do, I really do care,” He sighed. “I love Alex. But I love you, too.” Bucky groaned softly. “I need to have you, Steve. Please let me.”

Steve already knew Bucky had him wrapped around his finger--that he’d do whatever he wanted, give into that infectious smile, and spoil him rotten whenever he could. It wasn’t until this moment, when he heard the innocent pleading in his voice and saw the cherubic gleam in his big eyes did he realize just _how_ tightly Bucky had him wrapped around his finger. Steve’s stomach clenched as he looked over him again, giving his all to deny him. There were so many reasons to say no and only one to say yes. Bucky looked so sad at the thought of Steve saying no to him and Steve hated that, hated it so much that he leaned in and kissed him deep and hard.

The second their lips touched, Bucky reacted, coming to life with Steve’s kiss and his willingness to be with him. He wrapped his arms around Steve and tried to pull him in closer, sucking on his tongue and rocking his hips up even though Steve wasn’t on top of him. Feeling that arrogance--that very well deserved sense of arrogance--begin to swirl around Bucky, Steve put his hand on his waist to still him and pulled his mouth away from his. Arms still wrapped around Steve’s neck, Bucky picked his head up in an attempt to resume the kiss, but Steve didn’t let him. 

“Uh-ah,” Steve murmured. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way this time.”

Bucky looked a bit taken back, but when Steve ran his hand up his shirt, his chest lifted and he gave in, settling back and breathing in deeply. Steve took Bucky’s shirt off, slowly, very slowly, peeling it up and lifting it off his head. When it was off, Bucky stared at him, his gaze intense and almost impatient. Steve smirked and pressed his lips against the side of Bucky’s neck, softly running them across his throat to the other side where he sucked some more. He moved up and nibbled on his earlobe.

“I love you,” Steve whispered, and immediately started kissing Bucky’s collarbone. 

When Steve’s lips were just close to the spot, Bucky whimpered. It didn’t take much for Steve to figure out his collarbone was his weak spot. Once he knew that, he lingered there, letting his tongue slip out and lightly graze the area. Bucky shivered and let out another whimper. As he did, Steve glanced up through his lashes to see he’d folded his lips in, almost like he was both thrilled and embarrassed at the same time. He added some more pressure and Bucky moaned. 

From there, Steve let his lips travel down Bucky’s chest. He kissed every inch of him, making his way across his whole torso, sucking on his nipples hard enough to make him moan and squirm. Steve let the tips of his fingers keep running across Bucky’s collarbone. Bucky kept gasping and letting out soft, pleasurable whimpers. Moving his mouth back to his collarbone, making Bucky tense up when he did, Steve moved to kissed his shoulders and then made his way down both his arms, kissing all ten of his fingers.

Every now and then, in between all the kisses and slight sucking, Steve would whisper words of love. 

By the time Steve was at his stomach, his tongue swirling around in his belly button, Bucky was breathing hard and heavy, and Steve had done nothing other than kiss his body. At his waistline, Steve stuck the tips of his fingers under his pants and folded the very edge of them down so he could kiss there. Under his lips, Bucky’s stomach clenched, and Steve started undoing his belt. As soon as his hands were near there, Bucky’s fingers attempt to help, more than likely trying to speed up the process. Steve gave them a light slap and pushed them away. Shoving his head back into the pillow, Bucky let out an irritated grunt, but otherwise complied with Steve’s wishes. As soon as the belt was open, Steve worked Bucky’s pants down, just as slowly as he had taken his shirt off. Through his boxers, he could see how hard he was already. Steve looked up at him.

“What’d you expect?” Bucky shrugged.   
Steve grinned. “Let’s get rid of these, shall we?”

An excited and anxious smile pulled up on his lips and Bucky raced to pull them down. Only Steve stopped him, placing his hands on top of his and shaking his head. 

“Slow down, baby,” He murmured as he slid the boxers down and started kissing the inside of his thigh, moving his mouth close to his balls but not touching them. “We’ll get there. You just lay back and enjoy yourself.”  
Bucky got out an awkward chuckled. “Enjoy myself? You’re not even doing anything.”

Steve glanced at Bucky’s crotch, eyeing his bulging cock and then him. 

“I must be doing something right.” He said. “Just relax, Bucky, and let me make you _feel_.”

There would be time to do things the way they did the first time, assuming, of course, Pierce didn’t have Steve killed if he found out about their little escapades. Steve had every intention on having sex with Bucky the way he seemed to enjoy or was used to having it, taking control with him and letting him have it completely. But right now, Steve was going to let him feel loved. Steve was going to show him affection and give him the attention he deserved. 

He pressed his lips against every inch of Bucky’s body that was showing, except his cock and balls. Steve came very close to them, even let his warm breath hit the area, but he never touched them when he was near there. He went down Bucky’s inner thighs, made his way to the outside and all the way down his legs. The whole time he kept whispering that he loved him. When Steve reached Bucky’s feet, Bucky was sleek in sweat and panting. Steve kissed the top of them, his kissed all ten toes, he even kissed the soles of them. Unable to help himself, he quickly grazed his fingers under Bucky’s foot to tickle it, keeping him still by wrapping his hand around his ankle like a cuff. 

“Oh!” Bucky yelped, completely taken by surprise. 

Steve only did it that once and chuckled before kissing the spot he had tickled. Now that he’d kissed all of him, Steve placed his hands on either side of Bucky and eased his way over him, back up towards his crotch. There, he lowered his mouth towards his balls. He glanced up at Bucky to find him gazing back at him. Steve smirked. 

“I love you.” He said and finally kissed him there. 

Bucky moaned, a deep relieved sound rising from the bottom of his throat. Letting his tongue come out slightly now, Steve continued what he was doing around the entire area. He then made his way up Bucky’s cock, puckering his lips and kissing it, even maneuvering around so that he got every inch of it. By the time he got to the tip, Steve thought Bucky was ready to scream. Steve opened his mouth and hovered right around Bucky’s cock, not yet putting his lips around him. He pulled away and could have sworn Bucky whined.

“I love you.” He told him and then took him fully into his mouth.   
“Oh, Steve...” Bucky moaned. “Oh fuck…”

Steve didn’t deny Bucky the chance to rock his hips in rhythm to his sucking. He let him move them up and down as he moved his mouth along his cock, licking along with his tongue. As he worked, Steve pushed Bucky’s legs open wider so he could play with his balls, too. All the while Bucky moaned and groaned and called out his name. 

“Steve, shit, holy fuck…” He gasped. “Oh my God, Stevie.” 

Bucky had his hands on Steve’s head, but he didn’t try to do anything. Taking his hand away from Bucky’s balls, Steve brought his finger right by his ass. He didn’t insert it though, just pushed right up against him, adding a bit of pressure and then releasing it. That made Bucky tremble and moan even more. Lips wrapped around him still, Steve grinned. He did that a few more times, working Bucky further and further with his mouth and teasing and readying him with his finger, before stopping altogether. 

Steve knelt between Bucky’s legs and completely undressed himself. He reached over to his nightstand to pull a condom and a bottle of lubrication out. When he straightened up again, he was met with Bucky’s anticipated smile. Only Bucky started to turn over as Steve opened the wrapper. 

“Hey, whoa there,” Steve held him by the hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
“I…” Bucky looked confused. “I’m rolling over for you.” He rattled his head. “Don’t you want me to roll over?”  
Steve gave him a patient smile and caressed his cheek. “No, baby. I don’t want you to roll over. I want to see you when I make love to you.”

The smile that slowly stretched upon Bucky’s face was like none other Steve had ever seen on him before. It was so full of hope and love, like he was honored that Steve would give him such a privilege. 

Steve put the condom on, squeezed some lube onto his hand to rub work it onto himself and then used that same hand to hold onto Bucky’s cock. Bucky gasped when he did that and Steve slowly slipped himself into his body. His eyes went wide, mouth dropping open though not a sound came out, and Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s back so he could hold him close. The second they were close, Steve kissed him, keeping their mouths against each other. The only bit of distance between them was because Steve was still stroking Bucky. 

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, syncing up like they belonged together, never letting their lips part. Steve couldn’t help himself and started to move faster. Bucky felt so good, so amazing Steve knew no one would ever make him feel better than this. Then Bucky let out a whimpered sort of moan and his entire body tensed up, his fingers digging into Steve’s back. When he clenched like that Steve felt himself lose control as well, breaking their kiss so he could breathe out a loud and heavy moan as he came just seconds behind Bucky. Both of them trembled as they worked on catching their breath, and Steve rested his brow against Bucky’s, giving the very tip of his nose a kiss. His eyes had still been closed, he was even still inside of Bucky, and when he opened then, he saw tears running down Bucky’s temples. Regret hit him so hard Steve thought he was going to fall over. He scrambled to pull him into his arms. 

“Oh, Bucky, no,” Steve wiped Bucky’s tears away. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”  
“No, no,” Bucky stopped him. “I’m not upset, Steve. I’m...I’m happy. I’m so happy. No one has ever treated me like that or, or touched me like that.” He smiled through his tears. “Thank you, Steve. Thank so much.”  
Steve cupped Bucky’s face and kissed him gently. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Even though there were still some tears in his eyes, Bucky continued to smile and he cuddled into Steve. 

Steve held him in his arms, more determined than ever to save him from the life he’d been content in living. He was going to give Bucky this life, one where he smiled because he was actually happy, got to laugh his real laugh, and didn’t have to worry about being hurt. Steve would do it for him. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.


	28. 28 Chapters Later

“I wish you would stay longer,” Steve admitted as he watched Bucky from the bed. 

About to pull his shirt over his head, Bucky paused and offered him a smile. He pushed his bottom lip out in a little sulk. 

“Aw, Stevie, what’s wrong? Can’t get enough of your Bucky?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He yanked the pillow out from behind him and flung it at Bucky. It hit him in the face.

“You’re such a punk.” Steve laughed.   
Bucky smirked. “I know it.” He sighed. “I wanna stay, too. But I have to go back to Alex.”

The apprehensive look that darkened his face made Steve get off the bed and put his arms around him. 

“Are you okay? Are you nervous?”  
“More confused,” He murmured. “And guilty. And sad.”

Steve wrapped his arm around the front of Bucky’s shoulders and kissed his temple.

“I’m sorry,” He sighed. “I shouldn’t keep doing this to you. It isn’t fair.”

He felt Bucky go rigid in his arms. Not stepping away from him, Bucky turned a bit so he could face Steve. The look of panic in his eyes had Steve stepping back to get a better look at him, only Bucky stayed right with him. 

“I-I’m sorry, Steve,” He said. “I know I should have never put you in this position.”

Confused, Steve rattled his head. Before he replied, Bucky went on with what he was saying. 

“I know this is hard for you, especially with your job and your team and I’m not making things any easier,” He waved his arms out, “coming into your home and throwing hissy fits. But, I,” Bucky peered up at him, his eyes big and wide, his bottom lip quivering just once. “I do love you,” Now that he said it once, it was like he felt the need to keep saying it just to prove it. “Really. And...I know I’m making things incredibly difficult, going from you to Alex and to you and then to Alex, and, Steve, I love you, I do, and I don’t know what…”  
“Bucky,” Steve interrupted his rambling, placing both hands upon his cheeks and kissing his forehead. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

The relief that took hold of Bucky showed everywhere--in his eyes, on his mouth, even in his breathing. As if embarrassed by that, by the fact that Steve knew what he was going on and on about without him coming out and saying it, he rattled and lowered his head with a huff. 

“I’m such a pain in the ass,” He mumbled. “I don’t know why anyone would want to put up with me.”  
Steve just laughed. “Yeah, you are a pain in the ass, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Bucky picked his head up so Steve whispered the rest in his ear. “I kinda like that you’re a pain in the ass.”

He could hear him breathe snicker, and Bucky gently leaned the side of his head into Steve’s. Taking the opportunity to snuggle at least once more before he left, Steve held his hand to Bucky’s other cheek and nuzzled against him. 

“Come on, Buck,” He murmured. “I’ll walk you to the diner.”

On the bench in front of the diner, Bucky sat next to Steve with his head on Steve’s shoulder. It took all of Steve’s willpower to not put his arm over his shoulders and rest up against him as well. It wouldn’t be a smart move though. Letting Bucky lean on him was one thing. He had been through a rough day and was seeking comfort from a friend. That’s all the excuse he needed. At least that’s what Steve hoped. Steve figured Bucky wouldn’t do it if he couldn’t explain it away. 

The air was thick and hot, the sun still high enough that it still looked as though it was the middle of the afternoon rather than the start of the evening. The dinner rush swarmed in and out of the diner. People hustled up and down the streets, going in and out of stores, no one paying any mind to the two men sitting on the bench. 

When Bucky suddenly picked his head off his shoulder, Steve assumed his escort was there to pick him up. Only no car had pulled over. He turned his head to see that Bucky was gazing at him with a little grin. 

“What?” Steve asked.   
“Nothing,” Bucky shrugged. “It’s just…”

He trailed off and chuckled as though Steve was not privy to some inside joke of his. Steve poked his side. 

“What is it?”  
“Well I was just going to say thank you for today, but,” He grinned wider. “Then I noticed how beautiful you were. Did you know how beautiful you were?”  
“I…” 

Steve’s mouth got stuck while trying to form a word, then it opened and closed a few times as he tried to reform it. Not that he was really sure what word he was trying to form, let alone forming several of them to string them into a sentence. Feeling his face get warm, he hid his bright, bashful smile with his fist and looked away. 

“Why, Detective Rogers,” Bucky guffawed. “I do believe you are blushing.”

Steve nudged him in the ribs with his elbow with just enough strength that he jostled him a bit. If the temperature coming off his face was any indication of how red it was, Steve imagined there might actually be steam coming off him. All the while Bucky just went right on laughing. 

“After everything I’ve tried, _that’s_ what gets you like this?” Bucky teased and laughed even harder at him. “Just a little compliment? Look at you, you’re falling to pieces.”

Covering his face with one hand, Steve used the other to try to put it over Bucky’s mouth. Since he wasn’t looking at him, Bucky was able to catch it and he kissed it. Steve could feel his smile, and glimpsed over at him. The second his eyes were on him, Bucky gave him that cocky flick of his eyebrows, his lips curling up in that devilish, canny smile of his. 

“Oh shut up,” He chuckled, shifting his weight around on the seat. “Like I haven’t made you blush.”  
“Not quite like this.” Bucky pointed out. 

Determined to get ahold of himself, Steve sucked in a deep breath and concentrated on anything other than what Bucky had said. He could feel his lips pinched up, and knew that Bucky was watching him intently, but Steve just stared straight ahead until the coy and blushing person he turned into passed and he steadily returned to normal. With one last final snicker, Bucky settled down and put his head back on Steve’s shoulder. Though he still couldn’t hold him the way he would have liked, Steve placed his the back of his hand right up against the back of Bucky’s. In response, Bucky spread his knuckles a bit so that Steve could fit his in between. 

“Hey, Stevie?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I think you’re beautiful.”  
“Oh come on!” Steve exclaimed, as the exact same blush, the same timid smile, the same awkward chuckling all started up again. 

Steve jerked his head away, but Bucky had stayed where is was, laughing at what he’d done and clearly very proud of himself. 

“Okay, I’m done for now, I promise.”

Holding in another round of chuckling, Steve shook his head.

“You’re a jerk.” He teased.  
Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. And you’re a punk.”

Steve just smiled back at him. They’d been waiting there for nearly twenty minutes already. Bucky’s escort would be getting there any second. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve wanted to keep the rest of whatever time they had left just the way it had been a moment ago, but this was more important. “Are you gonna be okay?”

By the way Bucky’s lips twisted, Steve was sure he didn’t need him to clarify what he meant. 

“I’m fine,” He said stiffly. “These things happen.”

That was an even worse lie than Steve heard from his own lips. 

“Bucky, don’t…” He rattled his head and tried a different approach. “It’s okay not to be, you know. What happened today was a big deal. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Bucky’s pressed his lips together and then sighed. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess so.”  
“Can I ask you something?” Since he just looked up at him, Steve asked his question. “Did you… _talk_ to your mom yesterday?”  
“No, not me,” He replied. “Alex did.”  
“So Pierce set this all up for you? You didn’t actually speak to her yourself?”

Picking his head off of Steve’s shoulder, Bucky gazed straight out ahead of himself. For a moment or two, it looked as though he was engaged in a deep thought. His eyes closed and he rattled his head. 

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean…” he stumbled over his words. “No, I didn’t talk to her; _yes_ , Alex set this up. He set it up for _me_. Because he...he loves...me.”  
“Okay.”

Steve said nothing more on the subject. Neither did Bucky, though he continued to appear to be trapped in thought. They sat quietly like that until the armored vehicle pulled over in front of the curb and John got out of the driver’s side. Without even acknowledging either Bucky or Steve, he just walked around the car and opened the side door. 

For a second, Bucky didn’t move. He just looked at the car, and his escort, like they were there to make him miserable. Then he sighed and gave Steve a half-hearted smile. 

“Well, I should go.” He said.   
“Yeah, looks like it.” Steve agreed, and when Bucky stood up he was quick to add one more thing. “Don’t forget that I love you, okay?”

Bucky had started to walk away already and since Steve had said it softly he wasn’t sure if he would hear it. But Bucky turned around, and took a few steps backwards. Steve could tell he was about to mask his emotions with some wit and sass. 

“Only if you stay beautiful,” He threw at him, adding in a wink and a flick of his index finger.

He twirled around again, but not before Steve’s face filled with another blush. Steve waited until Bucky was driven away--he hadn’t hesitated at all going to or getting in the car--before heading back to his place and getting on his motorcycle. 

Steve was going to have to miss a visit with Clint and his team. Tonight, he had to take a trip to Hawk Grove and visit a Mrs. Wendy Barnes. 

***

The house Steve pulled up to was a quaint little bungalow, its yellow paint peeling and stone steps cracking a bit. Taking his helmet off, Steve took a few moments to survey the area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unmarked cars that he would need to worry about, and there were even a few kids playing kickball in the middle of the road. First checking to make sure he was in order--Steve had taken his badge and gun since he had no idea what he would find here--he went up the porch and knocked on the door screen door. 

Since the main door was open, Steve could see the woman he assumed was Bucky’s mother step out of the kitchen and come towards the door. She was a short woman, with round hips and long, shiny brown hair. Wrapped in ivory skin, her eyes shined brightly when the sunlight hit them and Steve could see where Bucky got the shaping of his from. 

“Yes?” She greeted, wiping her hands dry with a dish towel.   
Steve nodded once in acknowledgement, touching his hairline like he had a hat to tip. 

“Evening’ Ma’am,” He started. “Are you Wendy Barnes?”

She was hesitant for a moment, her entire body stiff and eyes narrowed as she looked at him. It appeared as though she was trying to place how she knew him even though they’d never met. 

“Yes, that’s right.”  
“Mrs. Barnes, my name is…”

But Steve stopped when he saw the flicker of recognition on her face. Obviously she had just worked out who he was, probably from having seen him on the news or in the newspaper, as rare as that was since Fury tried to keep his team’s faces out of the papers. Steve almost went to smile at her. As the Heart of the City, whenever he happened to be recognized, it was usually what the people wanted. A smile, a handshake, sometimes a hug or an autograph. But Steve never got the chance to smile. Not when he saw her face crumple and the tears rushed to her eyes. 

“Oh, no, please,” She begged. “Please don’t tell me he’s gone. I can’t take it. I can’t.”  
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barnes, what are you talking about?”  
She looked up at him and wiped some of her tears away. “You’re here to tell me my son is dead, aren’t you, Detective Rogers?”

Never considering that she would jump to that conclusion, Steve hurried to get the front door opened, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, no!” He assured her. “No, Mrs. Barnes, I’m not here for that. He’s okay. He’s alive, I promise. I was just with him.”

As though that was the most shocking thing she’d heard in years, Mrs. Barnes’ eyes went wide. She fell completely silent for a moment. 

“You were with him?” She whispered after a few seconds. “You were with my Bucky?”

Hearing the love and affection in her voice, and the longing in the way she said his name, Steve felt a twinge of loneliness. He missed his own mom. But that didn’t matter. Not now. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied. “I’m a friend of Bucky’s.”

Mrs. Barnes wore a mask of confusion. What Steve said must have baffled her since her eyes moved from side to side even though she didn’t move her head--a mannerism Steve saw in Bucky. 

“I don’t understand,” She whispered. “They said...they told me…”  
“Why don’t we go inside, Ma’am?”

She looked up at him like she was surprised. Steve had a feeling she was overwhelmed by his sudden visit and the reason for it. But she nodded and waved him in. Mrs. Barnes took him into the living room, a modest, little room with a couch against the wall with bay windows and a loveseat with matching fabric across from it. There was a wooden rocking chair next to the brick fireplace. Upon the mantle above the fireplace were several pictures--all of them had Bucky in them. They ranged from him being a baby in his mother’s arms, to a toddler on who Steve assumed was his father’s shoulders, to a little boy laughing in front of a birthday cake to an adolescent all dressed up in formal wear. There wasn’t one photo that didn’t have him in it. 

“Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. Barnes?” Steve asked her once they were seated on the sofa. “Who told you what?”

She first pulled a fresh tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes dry. 

“These men came to me,” She said. “A year and thirty two days after Bucky went missing. They, uh,” Mrs. Barnes paused to avoid the hitch in her voice getting stronger. “They told me that Bucky was being sponsored by that Alexander Pierce man, you know, that man who…”  
“I know who he is,” Steve assured her. “They told you he was sponsoring him?”  
“Yes. Said he was paying for him to enter some rehab place but that he would not be allowed to contact anyone from his _old_ life,” She got out one humorless laugh. “That’s how they described it. His _old_ life.” Mrs. Barnes dabbed the tissues at her eyes again. “I didn’t think something like that was legal. I mean, he was just a kid, only sixteen. How could they tell me that I couldn’t see my sixteen year old son? But when I went to the police they said that if it was Bucky’s choice there was nothing they could do about it. A few days after that those same men came back with an account with, well, a _lot_ of money in my name.” She shook her head. “They told me it was for my troubles and that I didn’t need to worry about Bucky anymore.” She slammed her hand down on the arm of the couch. “I’m his mother! How was I not supposed to worry? But…” She sighed. “What was I supposed to do? I knew what the money was for. They wanted me to shut up, to stay put and just not poke my nose around looking for my son, my _son_. I need to know. What happened to my son?”

Steve didn’t want to cause this poor woman any pain. After everything she’d lost, he hoped to give her something back. This wasn’t going to be easy. 

“He’s still with Alexander Pierce, Ma’am.” He told her. “He lives there with him.”  
“He does?” It looked like she wasn’t sure if she should be concerned or relieved. “Is he...is he still on…?”  
“No,” Steve shook his head. “No, he’s sober. Bucky’s been sober for seven years.”  
“Seven?” Mrs. Barnes shook her head. “No, that’s not right though. If he’s still there with Alexander Pierce, then that’s thirteen years. It took him that long to get healthy?”

Trying to prepare himself for what he was about to tell her, Steve took in a deep breath and made sure to face her. 

“I think that Pierce intentionally set Bucky up to fall of the wagon a few times,” He explained to her. “Bucky is…” Steve had to stop and start again. “Bucky is being abused.” When her eyes filled with her very justified rage and then mixed with such fear all color disappeared from her face, Steve put her hand on her knee. “Not like how you saw. Not like that last time. It’s different. Not that it’s any better, but physically, he’s okay.”  
“What’s happening to my son, Detective? What did that man do to him?”  
“Alexander Pierce has made Bucky completely dependent on him. I mean, Bucky doesn’t know that, not really anyway. He truly believes that he’s nothing without Pierce. Pierce has used emotional and psychological manipulation to make sure that Bucky can’t see how much he’s worth. He knows all of Bucky’s weaknesses, he knows just what words to use to make him feel inferior, he knows exactly how to keep him right where he wants him to be. He’s set him up to fail several times just so Bucky will think that he can’t do anything without him.”

Steve wasn’t sure how he got all that out without stopping, especially when there was a steady flow of tears falling from Mrs. Barnes’ eyes. If he had stopped though, he knew he would probably just break down with her. 

“Oh God,” She cried. “This is all my fault. I swear, I didn’t know. I had no idea that Hank ever touched him. I thought it was just me! I tried to leave him as soon as I found out but then Bucky kept disappearing and I was so focused on trying to keep him stable and it just took so much out of me that I didn’t have it in me to deal with Hank and, and, I did this to him, didn’t I? Did I make him…”  
“No, Mrs. Barnes, _you_ didn’t do this,” Steve moved a little closer to her and cupped his hands around hers. “If anything, you made Bucky strong, and that’s what’s stuck with him. That’s what kept him alive and going. He’s _strong_ , Mrs. Barnes. He’s strong and he’s brave. Honestly, I think that’s some of the reasons Pierce likes the idea of Bucky. He enjoys being able to make a person like Bucky completely submissive to him. Someone so strong and brave and independent and saucy, intelligent and passionate, funny and witty and sweet, and Bucky is all those things, Mrs. Barnes, and he’s all that because of _you_. _You_ gave him the power to overcome things that I don’t think everyone could overcome.”

Mrs. Barnes looked at him intently, her eyes narrowed in a strange way and her eyebrows pulled in.

“How long have you known my son?”  
Steve thought about it for a second. “A few weeks.”  
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you, Detective Rogers?” She guessed. “In just a few weeks you fell in love with him.”  
He pulled away from her and turned so that he was completely forward, his body stiff and still. Steve hadn’t counted on her being so sharp, something he miscalculated, and really shouldn’t have given how smart Bucky was. 

“I, uh,” He cleared his throat and then figured he might as well just spill it. Maybe it would feel good to just say it to someone. “Yes, I love him. I love him very much, Mrs. Barnes.”

A knot pulled in his stomach, but Steve still lifted his head to look up at her. When he did, he saw a small, not quite happy, grin on her face. 

“He always was a little charmer. Always had a way of making the girl on his arm look as though she felt like a million bucks. And there was _always_ a girl on his arm. He was always flirting with the boys, too, making ‘em blush and giggle. His father was a charmer, too. I think…” She teared up again. “I think that’s what I missed. I missed the charm. Hank wasn’t charming. But I was lonely. And Hank was better than being lonely. I never meant for any of this to happen.”  
“Bucky knows that, Mrs. Barnes. I promise.”  
She shook his head “No, he hates me.”  
“No, Mrs. Barnes, he doesn’t hate you at all. He misses you. He wants to see you. That’s why I’m here. He thought you stood him up today, thought you were going to meet him at the diner.”  
“Why? Why would he think that?”  
Steve took her hands again. “I told you. Pierce knows all he weaknesses. You’re one of them.”  
“Then why doesn’t he write back to me?” She wondered. “If he…” Her face cleared of all emotion and Steve could see the moment the answer clicked for her. “He doesn’t get the letters I send, does he?”  
“No. He has no idea that you’ve tried to contact him, not that he’s told me anyway. Did you know he was at Pierce’s home?”  
“No. But he used to write to me. I just sent letters back to the return address. His letters stopped after a year, but I write him one every week.”

Steve’s heart twisted and his stomach turned. All these years, Bucky had been missing his mother, and his mother had been sending him letter after letter. 

“Will you do something for me, Detective Rogers?”  
“Please, call me Steve,” He nodded for her to continue.   
“Will you rescue my son, Steve?” She requested. “Don’t give up on him?”

Steve stood up, making sure nothing had falling out of his pockets as he prepared to leave. He leaned in and gave Mrs. Barnes an affectionate kiss on the cheek. 

“Ma’am, I don’t know _how_ to give up.”


	29. Where Am I? 29 I think

“Stop sulking, Bucky,” Alex scolded. “You know I hate it when you sulk.”  
“Sorry, Alex,” Bucky replied, and did his best to keep his face straight and expressionless. 

There was no way he’d be able to fake a happy face, so Alex would have to deal with his attempt at content. Bucky glanced down at his barefeet as they walked through the eight story mall, filled with stores that ranged from extremely exclusive to average and ordinary. This was normally one of Bucky’s favorite activities. He loved going shopping with Alex, trying on and modeling clothes for him, and having some of them bought for him. Bucky always felt superior to other shoppers when he and Alex were let into private stores.

Today, however, he just couldn’t enjoy it. Not while walking through the place with no shoes on, seeing people glance down at his feet and children point at them when they past by. Since most stores didn’t allow customers in without any shoes on, Bucky was left to wait outside while Alex went in. While Alex could have easily made them let him in--which he did once already this afternoon--he decided not to most of the times. At least they were at the mall and not in the shopping triangle, where they would have to walk outside to get to each store. The inclement weather saw to that. 

“It’s your own fault,” Alex commented as if he knew what Bucky was thinking. “Now, perk up or else you’ll lose more than your shoes.”  
“Yes, Alex,” He sighed. 

He couldn’t figure out whether he was right or not. Normally, he agreed with Alex. He was the one who got himself in trouble. This time, he wasn’t so sure about how he felt. Three days ago, Bucky had made the mistake of questioning Alex’s motives. He hadn’t meant to, not really. The thought was just there, after he’d left Steve at the diner, after Steve had, well, made love to him-- _he made love to me_ Bucky thought _he didn’t just want to have sex with me. He wanted to make to love me_ \--after his mom didn’t show up. When Bucky had gotten back and went to check in with Alex like he was supposed to, the tears he thought were gone came right back. 

“She wasn’t there, Alex,” He cried. “She didn’t come.”  
Alex clicked his tongue and put his arm over Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh, my boy, I’m sorry. Perhaps your mother just isn’t ready to forgive you for what you’ve done to her.”

There was nothing Bucky could respond to that with. A part of him agreed with Alex. That was the part that Steve got angry with earlier. Bucky didn’t want to listen to that side of him. He wanted to listen to that sliver of him that was starting to wonder if maybe Steve was right about him. Maybe he wasn’t such a screw up after all. Maybe he did deserve more than what he had. 

True, Alex gave him everything he asked for. But there were things Bucky didn’t realize he wanted, things he didn’t know he _needed_ until Steve gave them to him. Steve held him when he felt alone, Steve tried to make him feel strong when he felt weak, Steve picked him up when he felt down, Steve made him feel like he mattered. Alex...well, Bucky wasn’t even sure anymore. 

He didn’t offer Bucky any other attempts at comfort. All he did was remind him that his mother thought he was a failure, that he’d done terrible things, that he made mistakes that had cost him greatly. Bucky wondered if that was Alex’s way of trying to tell him that _he_ loved him despite those things. 

Now that Steve had opened this door to all these new desires, Bucky wanted them to be fulfilled all the time. 

“Did you just sit there waiting for her?” Alex wondered.   
“No,” Bucky said. “I, Steve was with me.” He didn’t feel the need to tell him that he’d gone to Steve’s place. “He came into the diner for lunch and stayed with me.”  
“Well, wasn’t that nice of him? And so convenient for you?”

Since Alex still had his arm around him, Bucky could feel that his body got tighter when he said that. 

“Yeah, yeah it was.” He coughed. “At least I wasn’t alone.”  
“Do you want me to try to reschedule with your mother?” Alex asked. “Maybe you can try again?”

There was another thought brewing in Bucky’s mind, something he didn’t want to think about. It was a comment Steve had made. With all these new thoughts and feelings, and the confusion they brought on, Bucky couldn’t help himself from asking Alex about it. 

“Alex, can I ask you something?” He questioned instead of answering.   
“Of course, my boy.”

The knot in Bucky’s stomach pulled so tightly that it made him nauseous and lightheaded. 

“You, you _did_ call her, right?” Bucky could barely hear his voice. “You called Mom and talked to her?”

The arm over his shoulders slowly slid off. Alex stepped forward and stood right in front of him, but Bucky couldn’t look up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “What was that? I think I misheard you.”

Several breaths backed up on Bucky. He shuffled his feet and kept trying to pick his head up, though he never managed to keep it there. 

“It’s just...you...you wouldn’t send me there...and...and not have talked...I mean...you…”  
“Are you asking me if I set you up for today just to be let down? Are you accusing me of sending you there without having first spoken to your mother?”

Bucky was trembling as he fiddled with his fingers. Swallowing the rock that seemed to have gotten lodged in his throat, he finally peered up at Alex. His face was red with anger, his eyes hard and intense.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whimpered. “I…”  
“No, no,” Alex shook his head. “Is. That. What. You’re asking me?”  
“Alex…” His voice cracked.

But Alex snatched his chin and held his face still so that he couldn’t lower it again. Bucky was forced to hold his angry gaze. 

“I don’t want to hear anything other than a _yes_ or a _no_ from you, my boy,” Somehow, Alex maintained a cool and calm tone, even if Bucky could feel the fury coming from him. “Is that what you’re asking me? And, please, try not to lie.”

Bucky was already on food rations, and he was sure to be in trouble for this as well. He wasn’t going to push any further. Alex’s hand around his chin made it difficult to articulate well, but he needed to answer. 

“Yes.” It came out like he was a snake. “But I…”

Alex squeezed harder so that he couldn’t continue talking. 

“Oh no, that’s perfectly fine. You can stop right there.” He released him roughly, and Bucky rubbed his chin. “I see just how low you really think of me. After everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve given to you, provided you with, _this_ is what you think of me.”

He started to storm away from Bucky, leaving him there just to stew in what just happened. Instead of leaving though, Alex spun around and took a long, hard glare at him. 

“Give me your socks and shoes.”

The room felt like it was spinning around him. 

“Oh, no, Alex, please don’t take my shoes away!”

Shoes were always the longest thing he kept from him. It was humiliating not being able to wear shoes out in public, to have to walk down the streets in nice clothes but with no shoes. There were times when he was out on the streets when he didn’t have them and, despite the luxuries he had, it often reminded him of those times. 

Alex moved back to him and cupped his cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips against him, pulling Bucky into a hard kiss. 

“I _will_ be taking your shoes,” He murmured. “I’ll take you off of food rations, you’ll have all your luxuries, all your privileges, but you will not have shoes. None.”

Alex knew how much Bucky hated to have his shoes taken away, knew how it humiliated him, which was the only reason he could possibly have for not taking anything else from him. He started to leave the room again, and Bucky could see him motion to some of the staff. They all started up the stairs so Bucky hurried after them. 

“Alex, please!” He begged. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

He got no answer from him as they continued up to Bucky’s room. There, Alex instructed the staff to take all the shoes from his closet and to empty his sock drawer. Bucky continued trying to reason with Alex, but he wouldn’t even look at him. An unprecedented anger began to swell within Bucky as he continued to be ignored. After a few minutes, Bucky lost it. 

“God damn it, Alex!” He snapped. “Would you just fucking listen to me?!”

That got Alex’s attention. He had been standing in the middle of the room and slowly rotated his head to look over his shoulder. Just a few days, hell, hours ago, the look Bucky got would have had him cowering away. Not now. Fury raced through him and he just didn’t care. He stared defiantly back at him. 

Whether or not Alex was going to retaliate to Bucky’s outburst, he never got to find out. One of the employees cleared her throat to get Alex’s attention, and when he gave it to her, Bucky immediately knew why she called him. All the determination in him melted away when he saw the folded paper in her hand. Alex took it from her, glimpsed over at Bucky--he lowered his chin when they caught eyes--and then opened the paper. He made a noise in the back of his mouth when he saw the drawing that Steve had done of Bucky and then went to tear it up. 

“Alex…” Bucky whimpered. “Please…”  
Alex licked his teeth and let his thumb run across the edge of the paper. “Ah, I see.”  
He swept past Bucky on his way out, the staff following in suit with all of Bucky’s footwear, and Bucky could hear the paper tearing as Alex moved down the hall. Each rip felt like he stabbed him with a knife. 

Alex wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night. No matter how hard Bucky tried to get him talk with him, Alex refused. He had been outside his bedroom door when Mr. Rumlow came into the hall and pushed him away. Mr. Rumlow stood in front of the door, arms across his chest, arrogant and sadistic expression on his face. Bucky knew there was no chance of speaking to Alex that night, not with Mr. Rumlow standing there. 

The following morning, when Bucky heard Alex in the hall--Bucky hadn’t gotten much sleep, not when he kept thinking about Alex ripping Steve’s drawing up--he cracked the door open. Alex had been almost in front of the room and stopped when he saw Bucky peeking out of it. 

“Come on,” He said to him, holding his arm out. “Let’s go.”

Though Bucky had no idea where they were going, he stepped out of the room and into the arm that Alex wrapped around his waist. All he did though was take him down into the dining room for breakfast. Alex sat in his seat while Bucky sat in his, and Alex ate his breakfast. Bucky couldn’t stomach it. Not one word was spoken until Bucky finally mustered up the courage to say something. 

“Alex?” His voice was low, just above a whisper.  
“Mm?” Alex was looking at his phone.  
“Can we...talk about yesterday?”

Alex ate a piece of a croissant and shrugged his right shoulder. 

“I don’t see what there is to talk about.” He said roughly. “You made your feelings towards me abundantly clear. I don’t know what more I can do for you to make you see I want what’s best for you. I got you off the streets, I got you off drugs,” He narrowed his eyes even though he still hadn’t looked up at Bucky, “I did that more than once if I recall. I’ve given you a home, you live in the lap of luxury and then you accuse me of something so horrible I can’t even imagine what goes on in that head of yours.”

The guilt that ate away at Bucky made him angry. He didn’t want to feel guilty. He wanted to only be mad at Alex over what happened. But the culpable thoughts snuck in anyway and with them came a few tears. All of what Alex said was true. He had done all of that for Bucky. Even if he wasn’t sure how to feel now, even if his feelings were changing, nothing would change the fact that Alex had done all those things for him. Bucky wiped the traitorous moisture away from his eyes before slowly shuffling over to where Alex was. He didn’t get on his knees, not like he had in the past, but he stood behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Bucky pressed his face into the top of Alex’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Alex,” He murmured. Bucky meant it. He meant it and he didn’t mean it at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

Alex didn’t respond at first, not until he put his hand on Bucky’s arm, which Bucky still had wrapped around him. 

“Yesterday was hard on you, my boy,” He stated. “But that doesn’t give you the right to lash out at me. You hurt me, James.”

More guilt slithered in through Bucky’s veins. He hugged Alex tighter and slid his mouth to his neck so he could kiss it. 

“I’m sorry,” He said again, this time feeling it a little more. The sounds of Steve’s drawing being ripped apart kept him from feeling as sorry he he thought he ought to. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Alex.”  
“Do you know how you hurt me, my boy?”  
Bucky nodded. “Because I accused you…”  
“Not just that,” Alex didn’t let him finish. “Can you imagine what it’s like to find out that the person you love sought comfort from someone else?”

Straightening up, Bucky undid his arms from around him and just stood there for a moment, stunned at what Alex said. He felt weak and even more confused. 

“What?”

Alex turned just enough so that he could look at Bucky. 

“You don’t think I know what sort of pain you must have been in yesterday, my boy?” Alex commented. “But instead of coming back here, to me, so I could help you, you went to Steve Rogers.”

Bucky could only stare back at him, his eyes wide and jaw hung open. Alex looked so sad, so heartbroken. 

“He...he was just _there_ , Alex,” Bucky lied. “He was there and I was there and Mom wasn’t so...He just sat with me.”  
“You could have called me,” Alex remarked. “I would have come myself.”

Stomach turning, Bucky finally lowered himself to his knees and put his head in Alex’s lap. 

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Alex. Honest.”

Alex softly ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and across the back of his neck. He even leaned in to kiss his temple. 

“I know. I’m sorry you had such a hard day, my boy. Do you want to talk about it?”

Now Bucky felt even worse. If he had just come to Alex in the first place, he could have avoided all this grief. Still, there was this lingering idea that Steve wouldn’t be angry with him if he got comfort from someone else, from anyone really. In fact, Bucky was sure that Steve would be proud of him for seeking the help he needed. 

“That’s okay,” He said. “It happened. She...doesn’t want to see me.”  
Alex lifted Bucky’s chin up. “We can try again if you’d like. You just say the word and I’ll be on the phone with her again.”  
“Okay,” Bucky whispered. “Thank you, Alex.”

Beckoning him with his fingers, Alex puckered his lips and kissed him when Bucky lifted himself with his knees.  
“Why don’t you get dressed?” Alex suggested. “Join me while I go to some meetings and then we’ll have lunch and spend the afternoon together.”  
Bucky smiled. “Okay, Alex.”

As he went to go get dressed--sans shoes--Bucky couldn’t help wonder if Alex really wanted to spend time with him or if he just wanted an excuse to have him out with no footwear. 

That thought kept swirling around in Bucky’s mind over these past three days. He also couldn’t shake the sound of Steve’s drawing being ripped up from his ears. Bucky was so angry that Alex had done that--angry and sad. He loved that picture, probably more than anything Alex had ever purchased for him, and just like that it was gone. 

“Do you want me to look at anything for you in here?” Alex asked as he stopped in front of a gourmet coffee shop. “I can see if they have your favorite blend.”

Alex was going inside whether or not Bucky wanted anything from the store. Bucky figured he might as well get something if he couldn’t enjoy one his of favorite activities. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Right before he went into the store, Alex stopped and gently took hold of Bucky’s face. He sighed with a shake of his head. 

“Okay, okay,” He mumbled through a grin. “If you can have your shoes back when we go home will that put you in a better mood?”

Bucky hated to admit it, but that did put a huge smile on his face and he nodded. While he was still grinning, Alex planted a kiss. That only made Bucky smile even more. 

“That’s my boy,” Alex pat his cheek. “You can have your shoes back later, okay?”  
Still smirking, Bucky glanced down. “Thank you, Alex.”  
He had Bucky lean forward so he could kiss his forehead. “I’ll be a little while in here. I want to get a new coffee machine so I’ll be having them serve me samples. You behave while I’m gone.”  
“Yes, Alex.”  
“Good boy.”

As soon as Alex went into the store, the high spirits Bucky felt suddenly drained from him. His stomach turned and his head hurt and he was very tired. Everything was so confusing. If Bucky was honest with himself, he knew he didn’t actually want to be shopping with Alex right now. He didn’t want to be with Alex right now at all. Bucky wanted to be with Steve. 

Sighing, he leaned up against the wall next to the coffee store and crouched down. Bucky hated feeling this way, for his brain to feel almost as fried as it did when he was hungover. The confusion was so overwhelming it made him physically ill. Bucky ran his hands over his face and put his head back against the wall. When he noticed his escorts weren’t paying any attention to him--they were both preoccupied by the game being shown on the television in the window of the store next to them--Bucky was suddenly struck with an idea. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but he slowly lifted himself back up and watched his escorts not paying any attention to him. 

Bucky peeked into the store through the store window. He didn’t see Alex anywhere. Double checking to make sure his escorts were still watching the game--they were--Bucky sucked in a deep breath, waited for a large group of people to pass, and simply walked away with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Feel free to follow or message me on tumblr @thebestpersonherelovesbucky.


	30. 30

Natasha pulled Clint’s favorite sandwich--a hero filled to capacity with a variety of meats, cheeses, lettuce and tomatoes--out of the big paper bag containing everyone’s lunches. His eyes lit up with excitement and Steve could have sworn he was drooling already. It had been nearly four weeks since he was allowed to eat the foods he preferred, having been put on a strict diet by Bruce. When she went to hand it to him, his hands reaching out eagerly, she yanked it back away. 

“Aw,” He grunted. “Tasha!” She rolled her eyes with a grin and tossed it over to him. “Yes! You’re the best, Nat.”  
“I know it,” She remarked, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “What’m I getting in return?”

Clint had already taken a big bite of his sandwich and stopped chewing to glance at her, his cheeks stuffed with food. 

“Uh, I’ll be your best friend?” He offered.  
She chuckled as she took a bite of her own sandwich. “You’ll be that anyway.”  
“Ooo,” Sam cooed, appearing in the door with some bottles of water. “I’m telling Bruce.”  
“Telling Bruce what?” Bruce questioned as he approached from behind. “What is Clint doing now?”

As soon as Clint heard his voice, he tried to hide his sandwich under his blankets. Not that it would have mattered; his face was stuffed with more of it anyway. Bruce rolled his eyes and held his hand out, flicking his fingers as he did. With a heartbroken whine, Clint took the sandwich back out from under the covers and handed it over. Turning it over in his hands once, Bruce looked at it, shrugged and then took a huge bit of it himself. 

“Oh come on!” Clint moaned.  
“Mmm,” Bruce nodded. “Extra mayo. Tastes good.” He turned his gaze to Natasha. “I’m disappointed, Nat. Didn’t think he’d wear you of all people down.”  
Natasha smirked. “Yeah, sometimes it’s hard to resist such a pretty face.”  
“Damn right I’m pretty.” Clint grumbled.

There were some rolled eyes and muffled chuckles as Bruce went to take check Clint’s vitals. Steve had meant to laugh along with them all, but nothing came out. His conversation with Bucky’s mother still weighed heavy on his mind, even these three days later. Determined to find a way to get Bucky out of the place he was trapped in, even if Bucky still wasn’t completely ready to admit that he was a victim, Steve had been trying to come up with a way that he and his team could take down Pierce. 

He hadn’t heard from Rhodey ever since Pierce’s trip to see the FBI. All they got from that was the same run around that he’d gotten out of Pierce for years. Steve wanted to contact Rhodey himself. He thought about giving them a push to more forward. That wasn’t a good idea, and he knew it. Any mistake and Pierce would be free, and Bucky probably still with him. 

“Hey, Steve?”

Hearing Bruce call his name out grabbed Steve’s attention immediately. He looked up at him and tried to grin, but he wasn’t sure if his mouth cooperated properly. 

“Can I see you for a minute?”

It was only then that Steve noticed how quiet the room was. Normally he was having to calm them down after they started getting loud and rowdy. Today he could hear a pin drop. He glanced at everyone for a second.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Steve followed Bruce out of the room and into his office. He asked him to take a seat and, though Steve obliged, he did it cautiously. 

“What’s going on, Bruce?”

He didn’t answer until he was seated at his desk. Bruce gave him a warm, friendly smile before starting. 

“You feeling okay, Steve?” He asked. “You’re taking your vitamins? Your meds?”  
“What?” Steve blinked a few times. “Yeah, of course I am. Why?”  
“You look a little pale,” Bruce answered. “Looks like you might not be feeling well. Have you been under a lot of stress?”

At first, Steve wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was coming from. Then it clicked, and he sighed. 

“They asked you to talk to me, didn’t they?”  
Bruce shrugged. “They’re worried about you. Said you’d been distracted and distant the past few weeks. Ever since what happened with Clint.”  
“It’s nothing.” 

Even Steve could hear how forced that sounded. He understood the worries that his team was feeling, and was grateful for them, but this wasn’t the time to let them know just why this was affecting him so personally. 

“Do you think you need to talk to someone?” Bruce suggested. “What happened with Barton was a pretty intense experience. I’m not that kind of doctor, but I could make some calls…”  
“Really, Bruce, it’s nothing like that.”

Steve could tell he wasn’t all that convinced, but Bruce still nodded and gave him a little shrug. 

“So, I heard you started seeing someone.” He commented, a tiny smirk pulling up on his mouth. “How’s that going?”

The first mention of Bucky made Steve flash a smile, his face warming with a blush. No doubt the team was talking about the little phone call they’d overheard between he and Bucky. When the dismay over the entire situation struck him again, Steve attempted to not let it show. 

“I’m being...careful.”  
Bruce snickered. “Careful or scared?”  
“Uh, well, both, I guess.” Steve figured it was okay to be honest about that. “The situation is just a little more complicated than normal.”  
“So, should we be worried?”

Quite honestly getting tired of hiding and lying, or trying to lie anyway, to the people that meant most to him, Steve just sighed. He looked out at Bruce’s warm and open face, knowing that he could tell him anything without fear of judgement. 

“Not yet,” He said. “But I might need...”

Steve grunted when he got interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He held his finger up to Bruce to ask for a moment as he dug it out. There was a number on the caller id that Steve didn’t recognize. 

“Detective Rogers.” 

There was some static and background noise. It sounded like someone said something, but Steve couldn’t make it out. 

“Hello?”  
“Steve?”  
“Yes?”  
“It…” Some more sounds drowned out what he said so he said it louder. “It’s Bucky.”  
“Oh…” Steve glanced at Bruce and turned a bit in the seat. “Hi. What’s up?”  
There was a pause before he answered. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to bother you…”  
“No, no!” he assured him. “You’re not bothering me. Is everything okay?”  
“Well...sort of. I mean...can you come get me?”  
Steve’s stomach flipped. “Get you? Get you where?”  
“Uh…”

Bucky rattled off an address of a gas station, one which Steve recognized, but knew it was no where near any place he would normally be at. 

“What are you doing there?”  
“I, um, I was shopping,” He sounded nervous. “I...look, can you come get me, please?”

This wasn’t exactly the best of times, not with Bruce trying to talk to him and Steve knowing that his team was worried. But he couldn’t leave Bucky stranded, not when he was asking for him. 

“Yeah, yeah, just stay where you are, okay?” He said. “I’ll be there.”

Steve hung up quickly and turned back to Bruce, rising to his feet immediately. The look on Bruce’s face fell somewhere between concerned and confused. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked.  
“I have to go.” Steve told him. “Someone needs my help.”  
Bruce got up as Steve headed for the door. “Whoa, wait a sec, Steve. Are you sure everything is all right? You look nervous.”  
“Yeah, I am.” He agreed. “I have a friend who needs my help and if I take too long…”  
“Steve!”

The worry in Bruce’s voice was enough to make Steve stagger and slow enough for him to take hold of his wrist. 

“What is it?” Steve wondered. “I have to…”  
“You need to see something.”

They had paused right in front of the nearest restroom, and Bruce guided Steve through the doors. There, he led him right up to the sinks and in front of the mirrors. 

“Look,” Bruce instructed. “Look at that and tell me what you see, and that you wouldn’t be doing the same I was right now.”

Steve glanced at his reflection. What he saw actually startled him. His face was hard and intense, like he was infuriated by something. There was very little color this his cheeks and his eyes were glassy. He could see exactly why Bruce and his team were concerned for him. If any of their expressions even resembled the one in the reflection just slightly, he’d be worried immediately. 

Resting his hands on either side of the sink, Steve lowered his head enough so he could no longer see himself and sighed. Before facing Bruce again, he splashed some cold water on his face. He needed to relax. Steve wasn’t even sure why he seemed so severe. He let out a deep breath and, still leaned over the sink, turned his head to look at Bruce. 

“How long?” Steve wondered. “How long have I looked like this?”  
Bruce shrugged. “Couple of days. Today is the worst.”  
“Oh man, I’m sorry.” He groaned a little. “I didn’t realize.”  
“Look, I’m not gonna pry, but, I really think you need to talk to everyone. Let them know that you’re okay. I think it’ll calm everyone down a bit.”  
“Are they really that on edge?”

When Bruce chuckled and shook his head like he was amused by Steve’s question, Steve stitched his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what to make of his response.

“You really don’t see how much you mean to them, do you?” Bruce wondered. “You give them hope, Steve. You inspire them. To see you like this? It makes everyone,” He glanced down and then back up again, “myself included, uneasy.”

Straightening up, Steve pat Bruce’s shoulder then gave him an appreciative nod. Bruce was right. He didn’t see himself they way they did--still didn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” He said. “I’ll go talk to them.”  
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Bruce grinned. “And whatever this is? Whatever’s going on? You know you can talk to them about it, right?”  
Steve sucked in a deep breath. “I know it.”  
“So, whenever you’re ready, I’m sure they’ll be anxious to listen.”

Steve gave him a smile, and it looked like that made Bruce relax even more. Giving him another pat on the shoulder, he nodded in gratitude. 

“Thanks, Bruce. I mean that.”  
“Anytime, Steve.” He checked his watch. “Look, I have some patients that I need to check on, but if you need anything, let me know, okay? Even if you just think you need some more vitamins or even just to make sure your blood pressure is…”  
“If I let you take my blood pressure in front of everyone, would that help?” Steve offered.  
Bruce laughed. “Saw through me, huh?”  
“Little bit.”  
“You wouldn’t mind?”  
Steve shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

Getting a comforting tap on the back, Steve let Bruce take him back into Clint’s room. If this would put them at ease and get him out to Bucky quicker, Steve would put up with it without a fuss. 

As soon as they got back to the room, and he was noticed--by Sam first--they all went quiet. Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m okay, you guys.” He told them. “I promise. Look, I’m even letting Bruce take my pressure right in front of you.”

Steve had started pushing up his sleeve so that Bruce would have easy access to where he needed to wrap the blood pressure cuff around him. But everyone else just glanced at each other and then back at him. Thinking this would help them, seeing them all give him that look made Steve’s stomach fall. He lowered his arm before Bruce got to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He murmured.  
“You’re not okay, Steve.” Clint stated. “I know we kid around and shit, but we know when you’re not okay.”  
“We get it, Rogers,” Natasha continued. “I mean, we all know what it’s like to have something going on that weighs us down, but…” 

When she trailed off, she looked to Sam, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to state what she wanted to say. 

“You’re keeping too much inside, Steve.” Sam pointed out. “We need you, I don’t know if you know that, but we do. And...I don’t mean we need Detective Rogers.”  
Natasha shook her head. “No. We need Steve.”

From in his bed, Steve saw Clint nod in agreement. Steve glimpsed over at Bruce, he was standing with his arms over his chest. He just stretched his lips as though both concurring and saying ‘I-told-you-so’. 

Feeling incredibly guilty for making them feel this way, Steve ran his fingers under his nose like it itched and sighed. 

“We need to get rid of Alexander Pierce,” He said softly. “I know you know that already, but there’s more to it.” Steve glanced at Sam. “You remember that guy there? The naked one?”  
Sam nodded. “Yeah, of course.”  
“Well, I did some digging, thought it would be useful in getting the drop on Pierce.” Steve chewed the inside of his cheek. “But...it turns out he’s had him since he was sixteen.”  
Clint let out an angry huff through his nose. “He kidnapped him?”  
“No, no,” Steve shook his head. “I mean, he, Pierce lured him in off the streets. Kid was living out there, addicted to drugs, all alone, ran out on an abusive step-father...and, Pierce, he...he’s made him a prisoner, I guess, only he doesn’t realize it. I spoke to his mother and Pierce basically paid her off to keep her mouth shut. She’s been writing to him all these years and I don’t think he even knows. This guy, he’s, he’s been made completely dependent on Pierce. I did some checking, this goes back over a decade. He has no idea that he can live on his own or do anything on his own, because Pierce sabotaged any attempts he ever made.”  
“He’s brainwashed him,” Natasha muttered, her face cold and hard. “That’s what he did.”

Since she had been standing next to the bed, Clint put his hand on her waist. This information probably touched a nerve in her. Though she didn’t speak about it much, Natasha had spent much of her youth in a foster home that had taken many children in and tried to start some sort of strict and conservative religious organization. Natasha and the other children were taken away when she was fourteen, but even from what little she talked about it, Steve knew that it took a lot for her to recover. 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, that’s what he did. And he’s been there for thirteen years. I just...we can’t leave him in there. On top of everything else Pierce is doing, knowing that he’s there...it…”  
“It’s a bit unbearable,” Sam summed up for him. “He took a kid and royally screwed him up.”  
“Bullshit,” Clint remarked. “He didn’t just screw him up, he fucked him over. No one should ever feel like that, and no one has the right to do that to someone.”  
“We’re with you, Steve.” Natasha nodded her head. “Whatever you plan, we’re with you.”  
“And you know Carter and Hill will be, too.” Clint added. “You know they’re not gonna be damsels left behind.”

Steve looked out at all of them. Even Bruce, who had nothing to do with this, gave him a grin like he would back him up no matter what he needed. Though he was still anxious to get out to Bucky, Steve was so touched by them and all they meant to him that he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told them this earlier. Sure, he didn’t tell him the most intimate details of what was going on, but he already felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, hoping not to get all choked up. “All of you. You don’t know how much it means to me that you understand this.”  
Sam came up next to him and swung his arm over Steve’s shoulder. “We got you, man. You should always know that.”  
Steve smirked. “Look, I gotta run. Someone is expecting me.”  
“Hey, when do we get to meet your new special someone?” Clint asked.  
“Soon, I hope.” Steve chuckled, and started to leave. “Really, guys, thank you. When I…” He stopped himself and decided on something else. “When we come up with a solid plan, and I mean the minute after I hear from Rhodey, we’re going to do this. This is it.”

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d done but as soon as he said that, he could see the hope and excitement go through each of them as they gave him grins and nods. They believed it. They believed in him. He couldn’t let them down any sooner than he could let Bucky down. 

Grinning to himself, feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks, Steve turned to leave. 

“Oh, hey, Steve!” Natasha called. Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Wait that long to fill us in again and we’re gonna have to kick your ass.”  
“Oh, are we kicking Steve’s ass?” Steve spun his head back around to see Maria coming into the room, Sharon right behind her. Maria smirked and continued. “All at once, or do we get to take turns?”  
“Unless, of course, he’s stopped sulking,” Sharon added. “Then it’s probably best we do it all at once. Just get a good thrashing in.”

She was passing Steve when she said this and playfully swat his arm a few times. Steve caught her by the wrist after she hit him and brought her in close to kiss her cheek. He smiled and looked back at the others. 

“Go on, get out of here,” Sam shooed him out. “We’ll fill them in.”  
Steve gave him a thumb’s up. “Sorry, that thrashing will have to wait for another time.”  
“It’s coming!” Maria shouted after him as he made his way down the hall. 

Waving over his shoulder, Steve hurried to get out of there and go get Bucky. He had been waiting for him long enough, and Steve couldn’t imagine what Bucky was doing in Steve’s old neighborhood, but he wanted to get him out of there as soon as possible. 

***

It had been a dreary sort of day, and the late afternoon didn’t prove to be any different. Heavy rain fell from the thick, dark clouds, finally tapering off to a light drizzle by the time Steve was ending his twenty minute drive to Brookdale. The gas station Bucky had called from wasn’t all that far once he into the neighborhood, but it still took him several twists and turns to get there. Steve had to drive under the train tracks and passed the school he used to attend. He shook a little when he went by his old block, using a lot of willpower not to turn down it and see his old building. 

When he finally saw the gas station up ahead, Steve’s stomach knotted. Even from nearly a block away, he could see the figure sitting out on the curb, their feet tapping a bit in the puddle on the dirty ground like they were listening to music. Just a few feet closer and all of Steve’s anxieties were confirmed. There was Bucky, in only a button down black tee and jeans, and drenched. He didn’t even have any shoes on. Bucky’s head had been down, his knees pulled up with his hands tucked between them and his torso like he was trying to keep warm. It wasn’t cold out, not at all, but it must have been ridiculously uncomfortable being out in the rain like that, especially with no shoes on, especially where he was. As Steve pulled the car towards the curb, Bucky glanced up.

Steve watched as he took in a deep breath and heaved himself back to his feet. He appeared a bit apprehensive as he trudged over to the car, his steps careful and awkward most likely because of having no shoes on. Bucky got in right away though, even if he only gave a nervous sigh as his first greeting. Steve just stared at Bucky as he looked straight ahead, probably not even aware of the way he anxiously twisted his lips. 

“Thanks for picking me up,” He said after a solid minute of silence.  
“What are you doing here, Bucky?”  
“I...um…” 

He didn’t go on, and still looked uneasy, his eyes wandering everywhere but to Steve’s face. Steve hated that. Hated thinking that Bucky had done something wrong. Hated seeing that self-doubt on his face. Hated that he needed to ask the question that came to his mind.

“Are you high, Bucky?”

That made Bucky whip his gaze over at him. The shock and hurt on his face made Steve immediately regret asking, even if he knew it was right to ask. Bucky’s brow crinkled, disappointment creasing every inch of his face. It was like he was hurt that Steve asked, but was disappointed in himself for ever giving him a reason to ask. 

“No,” He whispered. “I’m not high.” Bucky tried to crack a smile, but it didn’t really work. “Still seven years clean.”  
“What are you doing here?” Steve asked again. “Out in the rain? Where are your shoes? What’s going on?”  
“Alex took my shoes the other day,” He murmured, his voice weak and shaky. “We were out shopping and I…” Bucky trembled like the weight of what he’d done suddenly fell upon him. “I just left.”  
“You just _left_?” Steve exclaimed. “It’s pouring rain out, you have _no_ shoes on, and you _walked_ all the way here? To _this_ neighborhood? What were you thinking?”  
“I...I don’t know…” He looked down at his lap. “I just...didn’t want to be with him today.”  
“And what about tomorrow?” He didn’t mean to shout, but the fear he felt for Bucky’s safety outweighed the thoughts of volume control. “Are you ready to leave him for good, Bucky?”  
Bucky flinched. “N-no. I just…”  
“You just weren’t thinking! Do you have any idea what a man like Alexander Pierce would do to you if, no, _when_ , he finds us?”

Bucky was quiet for a few seconds. 

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered.

Steve groaned and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Heart beating against his ribs with both fear and anger, he could see his knuckles turning white. He had no idea what to do about this. If Bucky wanted him to keep him safe from Pierce, he could figure out a way to do that. But that’s not what he was after. Bucky, while very justified, just didn’t want to be with Pierce today and ran away. In any normal situation, Steve would condone Bucky’s choice. He shouldn’t have to be with anyone he didn’t want to be with. Unfortunately, this was anything _but_ normal. He’d seen how hard it was for someone to escape an abusive relationship. Make the abuser Alexander Pierce and who knew what sort of hell Bucky was headed for. There was only one thing he could think to do. 

“Put on your seatbelt.” Steve instructed.  
“Okay.” Bucky whispered, immediately moving to do just that. 

Steve pulled away the second he heard the seatbelt click in.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked, his voice still low and nervous.  
“I’m bringing you back to Pierce’s,” He grunted. “Maybe there’s some way I can fix this for you.” 

Bucky didn’t reply to that so Steve said nothing else. He just drove off, putting the wipers on since it started raining pretty hard again. For a few blocks Steve could only hear his pulse pounding in his ear and the rain patter down on the roof of the car. Until he heard the sniffle. 

At first Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was crying or not. There was so much water still dripping off his head that the moisture trickling off him could have easily been from the rain. Even if it wasn’t tears coming from him, Steve suddenly remembered the reflection of himself he saw today, and if that’s how he looked at all right now, even just a little, he couldn’t imagine how it made Bucky feel. He was already in a delicate position. Steve didn’t want to add any stress to that. 

The very first chance he got, Steve pulled into a parking lot and put the car in park. Bucky glanced around, obviously confused by what had just happened, and then looked at Steve. It didn’t look like he’d been crying, but he wasn’t okay, that much was clear. 

“Bucky…” Steve said softly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just scared, Bucky. I’m so worried for you,” He wouldn’t have realized he was crying if Bucky hadn’t reached over to wipe the tears from his face. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please, Bucky, can I take you to a safehouse? They’ll keep you away from him, forever. You’ll never have to see him again. Please, Bucky, please let me take you there.”

Bucky just stare back at him, eyes wide and full of tears. He blinked the moisture away and shook his head. 

“No, Steve.” He murmured. “I, I can’t. I belong to Alex. I love Alex. I do. I just…” His face finally crumpled. “Please don’t make me go away, Steve. I want to stay with you. Please? I’ll go back to Alex’s tomorrow, I swear.”

All Steve wanted to do was break down and plead with him to try and understand that that was the last thing he wanted, that it should be the last thing _Bucky_ wanted as well. He never wanted Bucky to go back to Pierce. He wanted Bucky to stay with him. Only he couldn’t keep him safe, not the way those equipped to handle such a situation was. Bucky wasn’t ready. 

“They’re going to look for you, Bucky.” He said.  
He shook his head. “They won’t look for you though. Not yet. They’ll check my usual spots first. It’ll take them at least a day. Please, Steve? Don’t make me leave yet.” 

Steve lowered his head. He couldn’t force Bucky to a safehouse, a place that would keep him hidden away from Pierce until Steve and his team could take him out, and the way he pleaded with him not to take him back yet broke his heart. 

With a sigh, Steve put the car back in drive and left the lot they’d been parked in. Since he hadn’t said anything, he could tell that Bucky was on edge and nervous about where they were going. To be honest, Steve wasn’t really sure what he was going to do. While he wanted to give into Bucky’s desires and just take him home with him, Steve wasn’t sure if that was the smartest thing to do. Then again, he wasn’t sure if taking him back to Pierce’s was the smartest thing to do either. He was sure if he got him back to Pierce, he’d be able to make some story up to keep him safe from Pierce’s repercussions. He’d get Bucky to cooperate with that--something about being abducted or just separated. He would figure something out. 

Steve’s mind was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he didn’t even realize when they were already back to their part of the city. He had just driven past the diner and Bucky shuddered. Steve peeked at him from the corner of his eye. He had his arms wrapped around his body and his eyes were closed tight. And Steve couldn’t do it.

As soon as he reached the next intersection, he made quick and sudden u-turn. The car jerked to the side, jostling him a bit, and Bucky even more. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked. 

Steve shook his head. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”  
“You...does that mean you’re letting me stay?”

Instead of answering, Steve just sighed and turned down his block. He stopped next to the parked cars and fiddled with the keys on his keyring until he got the one he wanted off.

“Here,” He handed it to Bucky. “Let yourself in.”  
“Are you not…”  
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Steve told him. “I’m not parking in the driveway. I’ll take it to the nearest garage but I’m not making you walk all that way with no shoes.”  
“Oh, I don’t mind,” He said. “I walked from the mall to the gas station.”

Steve whipped his head around to stare, even glare, at him. 

“That’s nearly a ten mile walk!” He exclaimed. “Why...Bucky, what the hell were you thinking? Why would you walk all the way to Brookdale with no shoes on?”

When he glanced down at Bucky’s feet--Bucky had curled his toes in like he was suddenly self conscious--he saw that they were filthy, and possibly stained with a bit of blood.

“I was looking for a payphone,” He admitted sheepishly, staring down at his feet. “I left my cell at Alex’s.” 

Steve sucked in a deep breath, too infuriated by this entire situation to address him about anything else. 

“Go inside, Bucky,” He said again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Bucky’s hand trembled when he took the key from Steve, his expression worried and tense. Though Steve wanted to comfort him, the anger he felt was too much. All he did was watch Bucky get out of the car silently and waited for him to get inside before driving away.


	31. 30 Chapters Had this Fic Now We're up to 31

It took Steve about fifteen minutes to get back home, shading off some time by hopping in a cab instead of walking. Although he did want to calm down a bit, his desire to get back to Bucky was greater. Since he’d given Bucky his key--and he hoped he had enough sense to lock the door behind him--Steve went around to the back and went in that way. As soon as he walked in through the kitchen, he heard Bucky in the living room. 

He glanced over at Steve the second he came in, but looked back down again as if he was too nervous to look at him. Bucky was fiddling with his fingers, just standing there in the middle of the room, water dripping into the carpet. Steve ignored him and went straight into the bedroom. He grabbed some clothes that would be a little too big for Bucky, but it was better than being in the wet things he was in. Going back to the living room, he dropped them on the couch and just pointed to them. Bucky opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Nothing came out though. All he did was nod and move forward to take the clothes. 

While Bucky changed, Steve left again and went into the bathroom. There, he filled a basin with warm water. He opened his medicine cabinet and tossed some bandages, disinfectant and soap into a towel. Once he had everything he wanted, Steve wrapped the towel up like a sack and carried it, and the basin of water back into the living room. 

Again, when he walked in, Bucky peeked up at him from the couch, but neither of them spoke. Steve set the basin down in front of Bucky and knelt down in front of it. He looked up at Bucky with a slight shake of his head, a disgruntled purse of his lips. 

“Let me see.” Steve said.

Bucky creased his eyebrows. His entire demeanor was unsure and worried.

“What?”

Steve sighed and gently took hold of his ankle to lift his foot up. More anger raged through him when he saw how cut up, blistered, bruised, and dirtied the soles of Bucky’s feet were. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” He mumbled as he slowly lowered his foot into the basin of water. 

The second his foot hit the water Bucky let out a hiss and attempted to yank back. Steve let him move away for just a moment before taking hold him again. 

“We have to clean this up,” He said. “It’ll get infected if we don’t.”  
“I can do it.” Bucky muttered.

Steve shook his head and brought Bucky’s foot back to the water, this time effectively placing it into the basin.

“Absolutely not,” He stated. “You wanted to stay here. Now you’ll let me take care of you.”  
“But…”

He kept his mouth shut when Steve lifted just his eyes into a glare. Bucky then remained quiet as Steve gently and softly rinsed his feet clean. Every now and then he would hear Bucky let out another hiss or grunt. There were so many little cuts and scratches on his feet, Steve couldn’t believe he had been able to walk at all. Once he had both feet wet, he ran soap over them and went into the kitchen to get some more clean water. He poured it over Bucky’s soapy feet to get them completely cleaned off. Finished with that, Steve took the towel and carefully dried them off, wrapping each foot up separately to let it soak up the moisture. He then ran the disinfectant over all the open scratches, covering them with bandages. 

“Steve?” 

Bucky sounded like he was going to cry. 

“Yeah?”  
“Are...are you mad at me?” 

His voice barely reached a whisper. Steve stood up, gathering all the things he’d used to clean and fix up Bucky’s feet. He looked right at him, even though it was clear Bucky had trouble keeping the contact, and nodded. 

“Yes, Bucky, I am.”

Seeing his face fall like that was hard enough. It was even harder to walk away from him without explaining just why he was angry. But Steve needed Bucky to understand something, and this was the only way he could think to do it. So he brought everything back into the bathroom to put it all away before going back out there. 

When he did go back, Bucky was leaning forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Steve dragged over the rocking chair he had across the room and took one of the throw pillows off the couch to put it on the seat. 

“Don’t do that,” He told Bucky, placing his fingers on his shoulder to lean him back. “Come on, Buck,” He lifted his ankles and placed his feet down on the pillow. “Keep your feet up.” Steve put another pillow behind his back and took the blanket from the back of the rocker to place over him. “Are you comfortable?”  
“Um…” It looked like Bucky was waiting for something terrible to happen. “Yeah, I guess.”

Steve gave him another nod before scooping up Bucky’s wet cloths and bringing them down to the basement. He tossed them in the dryer and headed back upstairs. Bucky was very still as he stayed in the exact position Steve left him in.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want anything?” Steve asked.  
“N-no,” Bucky replied. “I-I’m okay.”  
“All right.”

Without another word, Steve sat down right next to him, close enough that their bodies touched. Steve put his arm around his shoulders and turned the television on. As he surfed through the channels, he let his eyes slide over to Bucky. Just as he thought, he was staring at him. 

“What?” Steve wondered, turning back to the t.v. 

He could hear Bucky take in several jagged breaths so Steve pulled him in even closer. Bucky’s head rested on his chest. He lifted it just enough to look at Steve again. 

“I don’t understand,” He cried, finally letting loose the anxious tears he had been holding back so long. “You said you were mad at me.”

Steve kissed his forehead. 

“I am mad at you, Bucky.” He said softly. “But you need to know that just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I stop loving you.”

Pressing his face into Steve’s shirt, Bucky held onto him tightly. Steve could feel him tremble as he continued to cry. 

“Do you understand why I’m mad at you, Bucky?”  
He didn’t lift his head. “Because I put you in this situation?”  
“No, baby,” He murmured. “I’m mad because _you_ didn’t take care of yourself. Did you see how hurt you were? Don’t you get it, Bucky? I need you to be safe and healthy. This,” He gestured towards his feet up on the rocking chair, “is not doing that. You can’t do things like that to yourself. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”  
“I promise,” He whispered. “I’m sorry, Steve”  
“It’s okay, Bucky.” Steve kissed the top of his wet head. “Just rest now, okay? I don’t want you to get sick.”

He nodded and nestled up against him. 

“I love you, Steve.”  
Steve wrapped both arms around him. “I love you, too, Bucky.”

They cuddled comfortably for a while, Steve settling for watching a prime time cop drama, most of which he scoffed at. Bucky was so quiet and content against him that Steve would have thought he’d fallen asleep if he didn’t slip his hand under Steve’s shirt to run his fingers across his belly. In the middle of the next show, Bucky must have started getting bored of the the program, or maybe was just feeling too frisky to help himself, since the fingers that had been tracing lightly across Steve’s abdomen began to drift towards his waist. Having sweats on, it made it easy for Bucky shimmy his hand into them. Slowly and gradually, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay or not, he ran his hand across Steve’s thigh as he made his way to his--now coming to life--cock.

Just before he would have reached it, Steve jerked his hips up once just enough to startle him.

“Oh!” Bucky yelped, and yanked him hand back out.  
“Did I say you could do that?” Steve teased. 

Bucky laughed into Steve’s stomach and turned his head slightly, just so Steve could see his eyes. 

“Can I?” He asked. “Please?”  
“Mm,” Steve rested his head back. “Are you going to make me beg again?”

Bucky gave him a smirk, running his tongue across his lips before making it wider. He shrugged. 

“Maybe.”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve adjusted himself so that he could lower his pants enough for Bucky to have the access he wanted. Grinning--a grin that suggested he’d won some competition--Bucky held his fingers up to Steve’s lips. Bucky traced the tip of his finger along Steve’s mouth until Steve finally caved and opened up. Steve sucked on his finger, moistening it up and then letting Bucky put the next one in. He licked his entire hand, feeling himself getting more and more turned on as he did, until Bucky wrapped it around his cock and slowly, gently, and gingerly, rubbed. 

Settling his head back down on Steve’s chest, seemingly very content in doing what he was doing, Bucky kept moving his hand up and down, just enough to keep Steve turned on. Steve rested his head back on the couch and let himself get lost in the pleasure of Bucky’s soft touch. He was so comfortable and relaxed, practically melting into Bucky’s smooth movements, that when he suddenly started licking the very tip of him he gasped. 

Steve sucked in a quick breath, unprepared for the new, and amazing, sensation that hit him. 

“You’re dripping,” Bucky murmured without disturbing his position. “Didn’t want you to make a mess.”

Rather than sucking on him, Bucky just continued to lap at the tip of his cock like a lollipop. After a bit of that, he lowered his head just enough so that his tongue would reach all of him. His other hand found its way to Steve’s balls. Bucky caressed them gently, shifting his fingers about so that they moved just enough for Steve to feel. The longer Bucky touched him, ran his tongue up and down, the more Steve yearned for more of him. 

A moan had been growing in the back of Steve’s throat since the moment Bucky’s tongue touched him. Unable to hold it back any longer, he let it go, curling his fingers and toes. He could hear Bucky chuckle.

“Something you want to ask of me, Stevie?” He taunted.

Steve started rocking his hips, moving in suit with Bucky’s movements and sighed with his head back. 

“Aw shit, Bucky, come on…” Steve could feel Bucky’s chest rumble with another chuckle, and knew he wouldn’t give in that easy. “Please?”  
“Mmm,” He let his tongue run along the entire length of Steve’s cock. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, Stevie.”

Biting down on his lip, Steve held back an amused, and needy, smile. Bucky clearly enjoyed putting him in this predicament, and Steve was finding he didn’t mind it all that much. It made Bucky happy, and that was good enough for him. Not to mention that wicked mouth of his brought him to places he never could have imagined. 

“Okay, okay,” He gave in, letting his surrender come out in one long breath. “Please, Bucky, please use your mouth.”

Bucky lifted his head to look at him, a delighted, yet cocky little smirk pulled up on his lips.

“Oh, is that what you want?” He sniggered. “Sure, Stevie.”  
Steve scoffed through his smile. “You’re such a little asshole, you know that?”  
“Yeah,” He bobbed his head. “I know it.”

Without another comment, Bucky devoured Steve’s cock, sucking it into his mouth and pulling another moan from Steve’s throat. Bucky moved quickly, like he’d been wanting to do this for a long time, like Steve was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Steve rested his hand upon Bucky’s head, running his fingers through his soft hair. He didn’t hold back any of the moans and groans that hit him. His hips moved in rhythm to Bucky’s movements. 

“Oh God...Bucky, I’m...I’m gonna…”

But Bucky only grinned, and then increased the speed and pressure he use with his lips. It felt so good, too good, and Steve came within seconds, finishing with both a gasp and a muffled grunt. He had virtually no time to recover before Bucky was clambering onto his lap, shoving his mouth against Steve’s. 

Steve wrapped his hands around Bucky’s waist and squeezed as he guided his thrusting. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to lift it up over his head, forcing Bucky to pull away for just a second. Right before Bucky would have resumed the kissing, Steve put his fingers up in front of his mouth so that all his lips got were them. 

“Hey…”  
“Shh…” 

Steve looked around him at his feet to make sure they were doing okay. Once he was sure they were still fine--they looked a lot less swollen already--he grabbed Bucky’s ass and heaved them both off the couch. 

“Steve?” Bucky wondered when they were both on their feet.

But Steve just lifted his pants back up and then scooped Bucky up in his arms, carrying him into the bedroom bridal style. Bucky threw his head back and laughed. 

“What are you doing?” He asked through his laughter. 

Instead of answering, Steve just sucked him back into another kiss. As soon as their lips were together again, Bucky folded his arms around Steve’s neck to get as close to him as possible. When Steve’s legs hit the corner of the bed, he lowered Bucky onto it. He pulled away to fling his shirt off and then hovered over him, moving close enough to grind up against him. 

Steve went straight to Bucky’s sweet spot, nibbling and kissing his collar bone. Bucky quivered beneath him, letting out a small moan. His head leaned back and his back arched up. With his back up like that, Steve shimmied his pants down to his ankles. Staring right into Bucky’s eyes, Steve licked his own hand the way he had done to Bucky’s. He smirked at the way Bucky gazed back at him and then gently wrapped his fingers around him, giving him a few long, smooth strokes and massaging his dick with his thumb this way and that, moving in all the right ways. All the dominance in him seemed to have melted away, and Bucky’s desire for control began to dissolve. Eyes wide and exquisite mouth hung open, whimpers started to escape Bucky’s throat. 

“Steve?” He panted. “I-I’m sorry for, for making you beg. Really...I…I was only playing...”  
“Aw, don’t worry, baby,” Steve drawled. “I know how to play nice.”

The expression on Bucky’s face fell somewhere between amused and desperate. Steve squeezed a little and started stroking faster, meeting Bucky’s open mouth with his and kissing him almost furiously. Feeling him begin to squirm, not to mention all the moans through their kiss, Steve let go and took his mouth away. 

“Get on all fours,” He whispered right into Bucky’s ear. 

An excited grin twitched the corners of his mouth as he quickly did what Steve wanted. Sure Bucky wasn’t fully aware of what he intended to do, Steve first gave his cock a few suckles before grabbing the lube from his nightstand and rubbing some onto his hands. He put his hand up to Bucky’s ass and massaged the area, slowly and gently working one finger inside of him. Bucky thrust back into Steve as he worked his finger in and out, and Steve added another one. That got another long, drawn out moan from Bucky and Steve grabbed his cock to start stroking again. 

“Steve…” Bucky moaned. “Holy shit that feels...please don’t stop…”

Bucky continued to thrust wildly in suit with all that Steve was doing to him until he was moaning, shaking and coming apart all over the place. Damp with sweat and panting hard, Bucky collapsed to the side. Steve leaned his head against his shoulder and kissed him lightly. 

“You okay?” He murmured.  
“Yeah…” Bucky breathed and then let out a soft laugh.”I, uh, I’m sorry about your shirt.”

Steve picked his head up to see that the shirt he’d ripped off had ended up right under Bucky. He chuckled. 

“That’s all right. It’s easier than cleaning the blankets.”

Bucky ran his soft hand along Steve’s jaw. He went to pick his head up, but Steve gave him what he wanted by moving forward and pressing his lips with his. Keeping their brows just touching, Steve rubbed their noses together.

“I love you, baby.” He whispered.

Even though his eyes were still closed, Steve could feel Bucky light up with a huge smile. 

“I love you, too, Stevie.”

Opening his eyes, Steve grinned back at him and shook his head. 

“You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”  
“Does it bother you?”

Steve kissed the end of Bucky’s nose this time and started to move away, picking up the dirtied shirt and balling it up. 

“Not particularly,” He assured him. “You’re just the first one to call me that.” Steve gave him a quick smile and shrugged. “I like it coming from you.” 

He smiled even more when Bucky blushed. Bucky must have noticed because he narrowed his eyes at him.

“Well, you know what?”  
“What?”  
“I think you’re beautiful.”

Once again, Steve’s entire body was taken over by a warm blush. He looked away so Bucky couldn’t see his smile, although that just made Bucky laugh more.

“Aw, geez, come on…” He rolled his eyes. “Gimme a minute to wash up, okay?”  
“Okay, beautiful.”

Steve sucked in a hard breath through flared nostrils and rolled his eyes back as he went to the bathroom, listening to Bucky’s chuckle the whole time. He dropped the shirt into the hamper and washed his hands off. 

When he got back to the bedroom just a minute or two later, Steve smiled. Bucky had curled up under his blankets, arms wrapped around one of his pillows, and was fast asleep, mouth cracked open slightly. He looked so peaceful, so content, Steve didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, he carefully slid into the bed next to him and put his arm over his body. Bucky moved a little. He didn’t wake up, but he shifted so that his body curved against Steve’s. 

Steve had no idea what he would do with him concerning Pierce in a few hours, but right now, in that moment, he never felt more at peace. He knew having Bucky safe in his arms was what he needed more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> Feel free to follow and/or chat with me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	32. I'm So Sorry For 32 Chapters and More to Come

There was shouting all around him. Bucky couldn’t make sense of it. The strong scent of scotch filled the air. He could hear the belt whip through the air, feel the sting of it across his back. Bucky cried out even though he couldn’t see anything. He begged for Alex’s help, called out for him to come get him. All he heard was his voice in distance.

“Why would I help you, my boy?” He wondered. “A dishonest, untrustworthy junkie like you? After what you’ve done to me…”

The fire of the belt lit across his back again and Bucky screamed out in pain. Tears slid down his cheeks. 

“Please, Alex!” He cried. “I’m sorry! Please help me!”

Alex’s voice sniggered.

“Oh, you know you deserve this, Bucky. Bucky, Bucky…”

“Bucky!” A warm, concerned voice called out. “Bucky, wake up!”

Bucky’s eyes popped open. Blood pumping hard through his body, he felt sweat and tears on his face. It took a few seconds to register what happened, that Steve had pulled him out of a dream. He glanced around, a little confused by his surroundings.

“Steve?” He questioned, blinking his eyes to try and focus better. “Where are we?”  
“We’re in my room,” Steve said. “You fell asleep, remember?”  
“Oh…” That memory started creeping through the haze of his nightmare-struck mind. “Yeah…”  
“Bucky?” Steve reached out and softly wiped some tears from his face. “Are you okay? You were crying, whimpering…” He moved closer. “And you’re still shaking.”

If Steve hadn’t pointed it out, it would have taken Bucky that much longer to realize that he was trembling all over. 

“I, yeah I’m fine,” He mumbled. “I just...had a bad dream.”  
“Yeah?” Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist and kissed his temple. “You wanna tell me about it?”

A warm, soothing feeling washed through him at Steve’s offer. He leaned into him and just let himself be held. For a while he said nothing, just listened to Steve’s breathing. 

“He had me again,” Bucky whispered. “He was hitting me.”  
“Your step-dad?”  
Bucky nodded. “Alex was there. He could see it but...he wouldn’t help me.”

Shuddering into Steve’s side, Bucky shut his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the images haunting his mind. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Steve comforted. “It was just a dream. You’re okay.”

Though he was far from settled, Bucky never felt so soothed this quickly after waking up from a nightmare. He yawned, and it finally began to register in his mind that he’d fallen asleep on Steve.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

But Steve only chuckled and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

“No need to apologize.” Steve assured him. “You looked peaceful. You always look really peaceful when you fall asleep here.”

It took Steve pointing it out, but Bucky realized then that he did tend to fall asleep--usually pretty deeply--whenever he was here. He also noticed that, though under the covers, he was still naked and Steve was dressed. Steve was also on top of the covers, like he hadn’t been in bed with him. 

“Did you sleep?” He wondered.   
“I laid with you,” Steve said. “But I didn’t sleep. I was in the kitchen when I heard you in here.”

Bucky shivered a bit, the effects of the nightmare not having fully worn off, and rubbed his head against Steve’s chest. 

“What were you doing in the kitchen?”  
“Making something to eat.”  
He glanced up at him. “You cook, too?”  
Steve laughed. “Not really. It’s just instant mac and cheese.”  
“Macaroni and cheese?” He mused. “I haven’t had macaroni and cheese in...in...God I don’t even know when. Is it ready?”  
“Who said I made enough for you?”  
“Hey!” Bucky pouted, feeling a light and carefree emotion gradually replacing the anxiety brought on by the bad dream. “You’re not gonna give me food?”

Scrunching his face like he was thinking hard about it, Steve looked up with his eyes and then narrowed them at him. 

“Maybe if you kiss me I’ll let you have some.”

A smile formed on his lips and Bucky immediately pulled Steve in for a kiss. Bucky kissed him long and hard, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. When he pulled away, Steve kept his brow against his. 

“Deal.” Bucky said.

Steve grinned and took his hand. 

“Come on, Bucky,” He stood up and brought Bucky with him. “I’ll give you some clothes and get you some food.”  
“Aw,” Bucky groaned. “Can’t I stay like this?”

On their feet now, Steve pulled Bucky forward so that he was in front of him and then wrapped his arms around him from behind. He kept them moving that way. 

“You want to?” He snickered. “I’m not gonna complain. But let’s get you off your feet.”

Like he had earlier, Steve lifted him off his feet to carry him into the kitchen. Laughing, Bucky wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Steve!”

Steve just kept on smiling and brought them into the kitchen, placing Bucky down on the set table itself. As soon as he was out of his arms, Steve kissed him again, pressing his mouth into Bucky’s and spreading Bucky’s legs so he could stand close to him. While he was there, Bucky felt his hand trail across the inside of his thigh, slowly making his way to Bucky’s groin. The instant Steve touched him, Bucky gasped, their lips still together. That made Steve chuckle against his mouth. He broke their kiss and pecked his cheek. 

“Maybe later,” he purred. “Now sit down, put your feet up, and don’t get used to being served by me.”

Bucky laughed as he slid off the table and took a seat, propping his feet up on the chair next to him while Steve went to the stove.

“You know, I like being pampered.”

At the stove, stirring the macaroni in the pot, Steve turned his head just enough to smirk at him. 

“I hadn’t noticed.” He remarked.

Grinning, Bucky put his hands behind his head.

“Don’t you want to pamper your little Bucky?”

To that, Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he picked the pot up off the stove and came back to the table with it. After setting the pot down, he fetched a pitcher of water from the fridge and then joined Bucky at the table. When he did, he looked him straight in the eye. 

“I’ll pamper you every chance I get,” He stated. “I’ll treat you like the prince you think you are,” Steve cracked a smile. “But I’m not serving you.” 

He pushed the plate he was in front of over to Bucky with a flick of his eyebrows. An impish grin tugged on Bucky’s face as he took the serving spoon out of the pot and scooped some macaroni out for Steve. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually made his own plate up for dinner, let alone someone else’s. They had staff at Alex’s to do it for them all the time. He almost felt proud for doing it, putting the food on Steve’s plate and giving it to him while Steve poured water into both their glasses. Once Bucky’s plate was full as well, he took a bite and sighed.

“Oh I forgot how good this was.” He cooed.   
Steve laughed. “Sometimes it’s the simple things.”  
“Steve?” His mouth was full, but Steve glanced at him to indicate he was listening. “Would you really pamper me? I mean...if things were...different and we, you know...you would pamper me?”

First, Steve took a drink of his water, washing down what was in his mouth. He eyed Bucky for a moment before his cheeks filled with color. When the blush hit him, he looked away again.

“I might,” He replied. “What would you do with yourself if you weren’t a spoiled brat?”

Butterflies filled Bucky’s belly, flapping around and spreading a warm, nearly giddy feeling throughout his body. The thought of Steve spoiling him, of being pampered by him, left Bucky with a sense of exhilaration and glee. But then another thought hit him. What _would_ he do if he wasn’t busy being so spoiled?

“Maybe…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe I would finish high school.” Bucky pressed his teeth into his bottom lip. “I used to be pretty smart.”  
“You still _are_ smart, Buck,” Steve said. “And you were an honor roll student. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume maybe you were a little more than just “pretty” smart.”  
“How did you…?” Bucky went to question, but then realized he already knew the answer. “Oh, that’s right. You checked up on me.”

He didn’t mean it to come out as hard and irritated as it sounded. The second he spit it out, Steve’s face filled with guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky…” He glanced down. “I…”  
“No, no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I understand, Steve.”  
Steve gave him a grateful smile. “I am sorry though. I didn’t know you. I thought,” He rattled his head. “I had no idea how wonderful you were.”

Folding his lips in, Steve covered his face as though he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But Bucky felt himself light up. 

“You think I’m wonderful?”

He groaned into his hands and lowered them to peek over the tips of his fingers. 

“I think you’re pretty wonderful,” he said, mouth still obstructed by his hands. “I love you, remember?”

Bucky found himself grinning wildly at that. Something about being with Steve made him feel like he really was all those things Steve claimed he was. Smart, passionate, wonderful, deserving of love. Maybe he wasn’t as smart, passionate, wonderful and deserving of love as Steve was, but Bucky supposed he may have been a little of that at least. 

“So…” Bucky awkwardly shoved some food into his mouth. “So, what did you major in in college that you graduated with honors?”  
“How did you know I graduated with honors?” Steve asked.  
“I saw your diploma. The other day...when I…”

Bucky trailed off, embarrassed to admit he had seen it when he flung it across Steve’s bedroom when he was throwing a tantrum. Steve didn’t appear to be put off in any way though, and he just nodded like he didn’t care what Bucky had done. 

“I went to State,” He said. “Majored in Criminal Justice.”  
“Did you get a scholarship or something?”  
“No, the army paid for it.”  
“The army?” Bucky questioned. “What army?”  
Steve smirked. “Uh, _the_ army. What army do you think?”

Surprised by how little of Steve’s life he knew about, Bucky took a moment to process that. 

“You were in the army?”  
“Yeah, two years of service before being honorably discharged.” He answered like it was no big deal at all. “I joined the force and went to school at night.”  
“Did you ever…?” His stomach clenched at the thought. “Did you ever go overseas? Did you fight?”  
Steve nodded. “Two tours. That’s why I was only in service for two years. I got shot pulling civilians out of a hospital after a car bomb went off in front of it. Got me right in the femoral artery.”  
“You were shot!” Bucky exclaimed. 

Shrugging, Steve appeared to be completely nonchalant about the entire thing. Even if it did happen years ago, Bucky couldn’t believe how blase he was acting. 

“Would’ve died if the bullet didn’t get lodged in there,” He lifted the leg of his pants and showed him the scar on the back of his thigh. “They got it out after I got home. Six months of rehab afterwards, but I did get a medal of honor,” He grinned at him. “Pretty sure you threw that one around the other day, too.” Steve gave him a wink and went on. “Joined the force right after I was discharged and got out of physical therapy. Met Sam right away. He was in the airforce,” He scratched the back of his neck. “Lost his best friend when they were over there. We bonded pretty quickly.”

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. He had no idea how much this would affect him, but thinking that Steve could have died without them ever have meeting made his head spin and his belly flip. A cold wave of nausea rolled over him. He didn’t like thinking about it, about not knowing Steve, about him being dead, rotting in the ground instead of being here with him. 

“Bucky? What’s the matter?” 

Steve’s soft, worried voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked at Steve and felt his throat constricting.   
“I...you could have died, Steve,” He whispered. “You could be dead.”  
“Hey, hey,” He got up and crouched down in front of him. “It’s okay.” 

Steve placed his hand at the side of his face, and Bucky closed his eyes, leaning into his touch. 

“But, Steve…” His voice cracked. “You almost _died_.”  
“I know that.” Steve kissed his knees. “That wasn’t the first time I almost died. In my line of work, and what I do, it probably won’t be the last. But I have faith in my team to always have my back.”

Bucky started shaking his head, his mouth hung open slightly since he didn’t have it in him to close it. 

“No,” He sniffled, and held back the tremble that slithered down his spine. “No, you can’t do that, Steve. Promise me.”  
“Promise you what? That I won’t die?” He chuckled. “I don’t think I can make that…”

Before Steve could finish, Bucky shoved him away hard enough that he landed roughly on his backside. Steve peered up at Bucky from the floor and Bucky saw him cringe.The anger that surged through him for Steve’s indifference to all this had taken over all of Bucky’s being. 

Did Steve really think his life was that expendable? That he could joke about it? How could he not see how much he meant to his team, to Bucky himself? Did he really not understand how much Bucky _needed_ him?

“It’s not funny, Steve!” He growled. “You almost _died_!”  
“Yeah, but…”  
“No! No but’s! You almost died and you talk about it like stubbing your fucking toe! And you’re talking about, about, going and doing things that can _still_ get you killed! You can’t do that, Steve! You can’t die! Not like that! You…”  
“Okay, okay,” Steve reached up and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, pressing the side of his face against his stomach. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Bucky didn’t realize he was trembling until Steve was around him like that. He leaned his face into the top of Steve’s head.

“Please, promise me, Steve,” He sniffed and hugged Steve around the shoulders. “Tell me you won’t do anything reckless, you won’t run into a situation that could kill you. I’m begging you. Please, please promise me.”

Lifting his chin, Steve looked up at him. There was conflict written all over his face. It was like he was torn between making the promise and not being able to actually make it without breaking it. He looked desperate for a way to make Bucky happy again without giving his word to him. After a few moments, Steve scrunched his face and pressed it back against Bucky’s stomach. 

“All right,” He murmured, kissing his belly. “I promise.”

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of Bucky as soon as he said the words. He felt so much better having that promise made. 

They remained in that position--Steve’s arms locked tightly, but affectionately around Bucky’s waist, Bucky’s arms attempting to do the same around Steve’s shoulders, but not quite able to reach all the way around--for a few more minutes. In fact, Bucky realized that Steve wasn’t going to move until Bucky did. That made Bucky a little uncomfortable. He was so used to following someone else’s lead that Steve waiting for him to lead here was strange and uneasy. Yet, at the same time, he was pleasantly surprised at how nice it made him feel. Steve waiting for him to make a move first must have meant that he must have trusted him to do so. Bucky smirked and kissed the top of Steve’s head. 

“Steve?”

He didn’t remove himself from their embrace.

“Hm?”  
“Maybe we should finish dinner.”

It came out like a question, but Steve gave him one last squeeze and nuzzle before moving away. He stood up, leaning in to kiss Bucky’s forehead. 

“I’m sorry I upset you.” He whispered.  
“Oh, no,” Bucky shook his head. “It was my fault. I’m sorry I made you…”  
“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve told him. “You’re allowed to have an opinion and to feel about things. And you’re certainly allowed to express them.”  
“I...I am?” Bucky pulled his eyebrows together. “I mean, doesn’t it make you angry?”  
“Make me angry?” Guilt pulsed through Bucky’s veins when Steve shook his head like he was disappointed. “Look, Bucky, I can’t tell you that I’ll never get angry at something you’ve done or said, but I’ll never be angry at you for being you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say to that. This was the first time he considered that he’d been getting yelled at and reprimanded for expressing how he felt. 

“Steve?” Bucky rubbed the top of his head. “How long are you going to let me stay with you?”  
“I wish you’d stay with me forever,” Steve stated, and then looked as though he regretted saying it. “I mean, I want you to be safe and happy.” His face grew very serious. “Bucky, if you don’t want to go back to Pierce, please, let me know. I’ll make sure I get you somewhere safe, see to it that he never bothers you again.”  
“Alex doesn’t…” He trailed off and sighed, trying to figure out how to say this. “He doesn’t bother me, Steve. It’s just…”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to put it, he wasn’t even sure it made sense in his own brain. How was he supposed to get someone else to understand? It wasn’t like he just wanted to leave Alex. He’d been with him for thirteen years, the man saved him from so many demons, he gave him everything he wanted, Bucky loved him--he was sure he did, he must have loved him. At the same time, Bucky had all these new desires, things that Alex never gave to him, things he wanted--maybe _needed_ \--more than the things Alex _did_ give him. On top of that, Bucky wanted to be with Steve. He’d never wanted to be with someone more than him. But how could he leave Alex? He loved him. He loved Steve. Bucky didn’t know anymore. 

“Oh God, I shouldn’t be here,” He rocked forward, holding his arms around him. “Alex is going to be so mad at me.”  
“Hey, hey,” Steve reached out to steady him. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll get you out of this. Don’t worry, baby. I’m with you till the end of the line, okay?”

Panic had started to creep up on him, but when Steve reassured him, Bucky felt it back off. 

“Why are you so good to me, Stevie?”

Steve shrugged with a smirk. 

“Call it my weakness.”

“What’s your weakness?”

Instead of answering, Steve just looked right at him and smiled wider before shoveling some more food in his mouth. 

*** 

“Do you really have to _go_?” Bucky whined loudly.

He was only answered with Steve’s big laugh coming from in the bathroom until he came out, all dressed and ready to leave. 

“I have to visit Clint in the hospital.” He said, buttoning his shirt. “I’ll be back in a little while.”  
“I can’t come with you?” He wondered. “I’ll stay in the car.”

Steve shook his head. He looked disgruntled at having to deny Bucky’s request to join him. 

“I don’t think it’ll be safe. I think it’ll be better if you stay here.” He narrowed his eyes, a playful sneer puckering his lips. “And just stay in bed like you’ve done _all_ day.”  
“Hey! You’ve been with me the whole time!”

It was true. They had spent the whole day lounging--and teasing one another so much that they exploded into more than one round of sex. Steve allowed him to eat breakfast and lunch in bed, too. Now that evening was approaching, Steve was getting ready to go visit his team up at the hospital. 

“I might have been, yes,” Steve agreed, coming to the bed and leaning over Bucky. “But I’m the one who made us food.” He kissed Bucky’s nose and straightened up again. “Which, by the way, has left a sink full of dishes that have your name on it, pal.”  
Bucky pouted. “You want me to do the dishes?”  
“Yes, yes I do.” He gave him a quick jerk of his chin. “You have two hands. I bet you can do it.”

Sticking his tongue out, Bucky made a playful face at him. Right when he would have pulled his tongue back into his mouth, Steve reached out and took hold of the end of it. Bucky’s eyes went wide with shock as he tried, and failed, to take it back. Steve continued to hold on, laughing the entire time, as Bucky moved his lips about as he tried to figure out how to say something in this situation.

“Steve!” He finally got out, although it sounded a lot more like Stheee!  
“Yeah?” Steve cracked up. “Can I help you?”

He struggled against Steve’s grip on him, not quite able to get away without causing more discomfort to himself. The laughter that started inside him caused drool to leak out of the corners of his mouth. 

“Ahhh…” Bucky groaned, trying to keep from laughing harder, and struggled to get out Steve’s name again. 

Still laughing, Steve moved in and licked the side of his face before releasing him. Bucky immediately wiped the saliva off his cheek with a grunt. 

“Ugh, you’re gross,” 

Steve chuckled. 

“You don’t mind it so much elsewhere.” He said, reaching through the covers to press his hand against Bucky’s crotch. 

The feel of his touch, even through the blankets, was enough to make all of Bucky’s muscles tense. Being with Steve was so different than Alex--and anyone else he’d ever been with. Steve kissed him and moved his hand away before things got too heated--again. 

“Help yourself to the shower.” He offered. “And any of my clothes if you don’t want to wear yours from yesterday,” Steve bobbed his head. “That’s if you _want_ to get dressed sometime today.”

Bucky pulled his legs up, the covers falling over them like a tent, and hung his arms over his knees. 

“I guess I’ll surprise you when you get back.” He teased. “Maybe you’ll get what you see, maybe you’ll have a little something to undress.”

Steve rolled his eyes and tousled Bucky’s hair. He leaned over him again to get one more kiss.

“I’ll be back in a little while.” He ran his fingers along Bucky’s cheek. “You’ll be okay?”  
“Y-e-s-s, Steve,” He stretched the word. “I’ll be fine. I can survive a little bit of time on my own.”

He got a scoff and another roll of the eyes from Steve, but he did kiss him again, this time pulling him in and letting their lips mold together for a few moments. 

“Sure I can’t get you to change your mind?” Bucky tried to persuade. “Maybe lure you in with some temptation?”  
“Mmm,” Steve hummed, his eyes closed like maybe he was debating whether or not to take Bucky up on his offer. “I would love to. But I do need to go just for a little bit. I’ll be back soon, okay?”  
“Oh all right,” He sulked. “I just wait here.”  
Steve cupped his face. “Be safe.”

He left then, and Bucky waited to hear the door close before getting out of the bed and heading to the bathroom to shower. 

When he was out, Bucky went to Steve’s dresser and put the clothes he wore the day before back on. Like Steve wanted, Bucky washed the dishes--another thing he couldn’t remember the last time he did--before he roamed around the house for a little while, moving from room to room and looking around without snooping. After just a bit of this, he felt on edge and restless. Having spent the whole day in bed with Steve, he was struck with the sudden urge to stretch his legs. He still had no shoes to wear, and he didn’t want to make Steve angry with him again, but Bucky thought going for a walk just up and down the block would be okay. He’d spent a few hours out in the rain yesterday. It was gorgeous out today. 

Not wanting to leave the front door unlocked, Bucky left through the back. The first step onto the concrete did hurt a little--he hadn’t realized how sore his feet were--but he continued down the block. The sun and fresh air wrapped around him as he tried to figure out what he could do about this predicament he found himself it. 

A part of him wanted to go back to Alex, to the life he’d known for over a decade. Routines and patterns. Bucky had grown so accustomed to them that the thought of losing them now scared him. The thought of leaving Alex made him sick to his stomach as well. 

Another part of him just wanted to stay with Steve, to start a new life or try to pick up the pieces of the life lost to drugs. Bucky had a small desire for change, for something different. Steve had given him a taste of something new, and now he was hungry for it. 

Bucky continued strolling down the block, hands in his pockets, and watching the clouds up in the sky. Even though so many things were in shambles at the moment, a contented grin pulled up on his mouth. When Steve promised he’d help him get out of trouble with Alex, he meant it, and Bucky had enough faith in him to believe he would. 

The thought of Steve going out of his way to keep him out of trouble and helping him avoid major consequences with Alex made Bucky feel bad for being out on his bare feet again. Steve would be mad. That made him smirk again. Not because Steve would be mad, but because he would be upset over Bucky not taking care of himself. With that thought making him somewhat giddy, Bucky twirled with a little skip to his first step, and headed back towards Steve’s. 

He loved having Steve’s attention, but he figured he should wash his feet again. If he didn’t, Steve would know he’d gone out. Then again, maybe he would just tell him, explain that he didn’t really go far, just a few blocks away and back again. Bucky was wondering what Steve would do in either scenario when he was about to cross the street again. 

The second his foot stepped off the curb a black car screeched to a stop right in front of him. If he had been any further into the street he’d have been crushed. Bucky had no time to react to the anger that blossomed within him. His eyes barely even had the chance to fully take in the car itself when the trunk popped open and the driver got out. Bucky’s eyes went wide, all his blood pooling down to his feet. 

“No wait! Please!” He begged as Brock Rumlow came towards him. “I can explain! I swear!”

Mr. Rumlow didn’t even pause in his approach and was at him in seconds, snagging him by the back of his shirt. He dragged Bucky towards the back of the car. Bucky struggled against him, the fear of being put back in there pushing him to fight hard. 

“No! No please don’t put me in the trunk!” He pleaded, desperately trying to pry the fingers off his shirt. “Please not the trunk; anything but the trunk! Please!”

They were at the corner of the car when Mr. Rumlow jerked him to a rough halt. So busy wrestling to break free, Bucky hadn’t noticed why he stopped.

“You would think, if you hate the trunk so much, that you would stop giving me reasons to put you in there.”

Alex’s voice pulled all the fight out of him, and Bucky saw him standing just on the opposite side of where he and Mr. Rumlow were. 

“Oooh,” Bucky whimpered. “Alex...Alex, please, I can explain,” He cried out. “Just please, don’t put me in there. Please don’t put me in the trunk.”

He came around the back of the car and stood right in front of Bucky. Alex took his chin in his hand and held his head still, lowering Bucky enough so that their faces were no more than a half an inch apart. 

“Tell me, my boy,” He said. “Are you afraid of the trunk?”

Bucky shivered and tried to nod, but couldn’t with Alex holding him like that. 

“Yes.” He whispered.   
“Why?”  
“Because it’s dark and it’s tight and I can’t breathe and...oh please, Alex, I can explain...just please, please don’t put me in there.”

Alex let go of him and pursed his lips, giving Bucky a nod of his head. 

“Okay, James. You think you can explain your actions?” 

Hope bloomed in Bucky’s stomach, cautious optimism spreading through his entire body. Maybe he wouldn’t be put in the trunk after all. 

“Yes, I can, I can explain.”  
“Very well. I’ll give you the chance to explain. Back at my house. Which you will get to in there…” Alex turned his gaze to the trunk. “Get in, my boy.”

Mr. Rumlow had let go of him, and Bucky almost fell over. Limbs trembling, Bucky’s eyes were wide and pleading, 

“Oh God, Alex, please don’t make me get in there…”  
“You can get in on your own or Mr. Rumlow can toss you in himself,” He bargained. “Which choice do you think will be more beneficial to you?”

When Mr. Rumlow grabbed his shirt again Bucky didn’t struggle at all. Instead, he held his palms out. 

“Okay, okay…” He breathed. “I’ll...I’ll get in. I’ll get in…”

Mr. Rumlow shoved him forward, hard enough to make him crash into the edge of the car. Giving it one last pathetic attempt to get out of this, Bucky peered at Alex. He simply nodded towards the trunk. 

Tears gathering in his eyes, Bucky whimpered and nodded, sucking in several jagged breaths as he forced his trembling body to climb into one of the places he dreaded most. Once inside, Bucky glimpsed out at Alex. The last thing he saw before Mr. Rumlow slammed the top down and sealed him in the tight darkness was Alex’s satisfied glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to check me out/follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	33. After 32 Chapters

The atmosphere in Clint’s room was a lot more cool and relaxed now that Steve had told them a big chunk of what was bothering him. The change was remarkable. There were no more sideways glances, or hushed discussions that came to an end when he looked over--things he hadn’t noticed were happening until they weren’t any longer. True, he hadn’t shared everything with his team. He did leave out the more personal details--like the fact that the person he was worried about and the person he was in love with happened to be one and the same. Still, everyone seemed a lot more at ease. 

Steve had no idea how much his attitude and mood impacted everyone else. Knowing that, he did everything in his power to not let his anxieties over Bucky show too much. He still had no idea what he was going to do with him. If there was some way for him to convince Bucky to just go to a safehouse with him, he’d feel so much better. But Steve did what he could to focus on being with him team. And right now, that meant laughing at Clint’s ridiculous, and usually pretty corny, puns. 

“Oh come on!” Clint whined. “You know I’m hilarious. The cantaloupe couldn’t run away to marry the watermelon because he can’t elope!” Laughing at his own joke, he pat his knee and when he saw no one else even chuckling with him, he stopped. “You guys suck.”  
“Right,” Natasha scoffed. “We’re the ones who suck.”  
“Yes,” Clint remarked. “I’ll go get you some straws.”

Everyone groaned and Clint cracked up again. 

It had been like that pretty much the whole time Steve was there. Clint would say something, Natasha would counter, Sam would make fun of them both, Steve would get in a snarky remark, and then play chaperone when things got loud and a little too crazy. There was a good chance it would have stayed like that if Steve’s phone didn’t go off. He had gotten a text. A text from Rhodey. It only said one thing. 

**Soon.**

Steve’s chest felt over-inflated, like too many emotions filled him at once. He stared at the screen for quite awhile. Something was going to happen. The FBI was coming in. They needed to be prepared. In fact, they needed to strike first. 

“Guys,” Steve murmured, interrupting a snark feud between the three of them. “Look at this.”

He turned the phone around to show them what was there. They went silent as they took in what he was showing them. Quiet and still, the entire room seemed to have been cloaked in somberness. 

“We need to come up with a plan.” Sam said. “Steve?”  
“This needs to be done carefully,” Steve replied. “Sharon and Maria have been gathering information on the bakery trucks, but they haven’t pinpointed a route or pattern yet.”  
“And we haven’t heard anything out there,” Natasha commented, jerking her head towards the window.  
“What about Batroc?” Clint wondered. “You think we can squeeze anything else out of him?”  
Steve shook his head. “No. He told me all he knows. I’m sure of it.”  
“Pierce set him up to take the fall,” Sam added. “Had everything set up in his name. Nothing links back to him.”  
“Which means we’ll have to catch him in the act,” Natasha pointed out. “He’s too slippery. If we don’t, he’ll get away again.”  
“But that’s impossible if we don’t have any idea of when he’ll be in the middle of a crime,” Clint mumbled. “All we have to go on right now is ‘soon’.”   
“Which could mean a few days or a few hours.” Sam nodded to Clint, indicating he agreed with his frustration. “What do we do, Steve?”  
“We dig up more information on the trucks,” Steve said. “Get in touch with Stark,” He told Sam and Natasha, “I bet he can scrounge up something that we missed. Clint, you get in touch with Sharon and Maria. Let them know what’s going on.”  
“What are you going to do?” Sam asked, a suspicious glint in his eyes. “You’re not just gonna go out there on your own, are you?”  
“No, I can’t.” Steve sighed. If it was up to him, that _is_ what he would do. “I can’t do anything at the moment. Officially, I’m not involved with this at all, remember? I’m on “vacation”. If someone suspects my involvement, it could blow the whole thing up.” He gave them a mischievous shrug. “ _But_ if I just _happen_ to be out and about and just _happen_ to hear something suspicious, then it’s my civic duty as an officer of the law to check it out.”

All three of them eyed him like they were both scared and impressed at the same time. Then, Clint barked a laugh.

“I love the way you think, Rogers.” He said. “Never know where that genius mind will take us next.”

 

They decided to regroup again first thing in the morning unless Steve got another update from Rhodey. When Steve left with Sam and Natasha, Clint was already getting on the phone with Sharon and Maria. As Steve parted with Sam and Natasha, the two of them were making plans to go see Tony Stark.Though he hated feeling this out of the loop, helpless to do anything until the very right moment, Steve was anxious to get back to Bucky.

He had promised him he’d be back in just a little while. That was over two hours ago. The sun was already down, and the left over glow of it fading to darkness. Steve’s mind felt split in two. He wasn’t sure what to focus on first--how to convince Bucky to let him take him to a safehouse, or planning Pierce’s take down. Steve supposed taking Pierce down would be the best thing to work on as it would, should at least, provide a permanent solution to Bucky’s problems. Although, he didn’t know what he was coming home to. For all he knew, Bucky was still naked, and Steve would find him on the couch waiting to entice him with all the temptation he was made of. The thought did make Steve smile in spite of himself. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling. In the grand scheme of things there wasn’t much to smile about. Then again, perhaps that was the reason he _should_ smile. The little things. The time he had already shared with Bucky. More importantly, the hope of a bright future. 

Having no idea what awaited him--in either the near-future or even at home--Steve allowed himself the smile anyway. His mother had told him to love, that he needed to love and to be loved, and he had that. There was no telling how long it would last. So Steve would smile while he could. 

By the time Steve parked his car back in the garage it was completely dark out. A few stars even twinkled in the sky. Since it was a nice night, Steve opted for walking home instead of taking a cab. It was his hopes that he’d get his mind cleared and focused on what he needed to be doing instead of what he wanted to be doing. Not that it worked. Every time Steve thought he was buckling down to think about how he could set up Pierce his mind just jumped right back to Bucky waiting for him. 

Halfway back home, Steve regretted walking at all. He suddenly found himself very anxious to get back to Bucky. The anticipation of how he would find him, naked or dressed, had him very excited. 

After what seemed like an hour, even though it had only been about twenty minutes, he finally reached home. Another smile filled Steve’s face as he pulled out his keys to let himself in. When he walked in and found the living room empty, he quietly crept to the bedroom. Only there was no one there either. The bathroom door was open, too. 

“Bucky?” Steve called out.

Fear shot through him like it was pumped into his veins. Steve went to the kitchen, though he already figured Bucky wasn’t there either. He’d have seen him, unless he was hiding, from the living room. Still, he needed to check. There was no one in there, but there was a note on the table. Steve picked it up with a heavy heart. 

**Dear Steve,** it started.  
 **I went back to Alex to try to figure things out with him.**  
 **I’m sorry. I’ll call you as soon as I can.**   
**I love you.**  
 **Bucky**

Pulling the chair he was in front of out, Steve plopped down. Head in his hands, he sighed and felt a rush of sadness roll over him. If he had just stayed here maybe Bucky wouldn’t have left. Maybe Steve would have had the chance to convince him to stay with him. Even if he just broke through the shell a little more, it would have been something. This was a blow Steve wasn’t expecting. He certainly wasn’t prepared for it, and the gloom that washed over him made his eyes fill with tears. 

“Damn it, Bucky,” He sighed. 

Steve pushed away from the table and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Unable to think of a single reason to feel optimistic in the moment, he trudged back into the living room and fell onto the couch. He had just opened the beer when there was a knock at the door. 

Hope filled him. Steve figured it was silly of him to hope that it was Bucky out there, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted it to be him so badly that he rushed to the door to answer it. Steve opened it just a little to see who was there. His heart fell. He could have sworn it even stopped beating and then picked up again double time. 

It wasn’t Bucky out there. It was Alexander Pierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to check me out/follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	34. I'm too annoyed to come up with something clever here. Here's the Next Chapter

Having his eyes closed made no difference. Terror fixed to every inch of Bucky’s body while being cramped in the back of the trunk. The air felt thin and stale, and like it was quickly running out. It didn’t matter that he’d been through this before, the experience would always horrify him. They stopped the car for a few minutes, he could feel it standing idly before moving again. 

Bucky couldn’t stand it. When he opened his eyes and saw nothing but total darkness he screamed. He wasn’t able to hold it back. Although he did manage to keep from pounding against the top, Bucky’s entire body trembled. It normally didn’t take all that long to get from Steve’s to Alex’s, but this time it felt like hours. Bucky tugged at his hair and wrapped his arms around his body, pleading quietly to be let out. 

When they finally stopped, and the car turned off, Bucky’s breathing picked up. He waited anxiously to be let out. Only he heard the car doors open and close, and the trunk never opened. He waited a little longer. Still, the top didn’t open. 

“No,” He whispered. “No please…”

Engulfed with panic, Bucky banged on the roof. 

“Alex? Alex, please! Please let me out!” Getting no answer, Bucky yelled louder. “Please! Let me out of here! Please let me out! I can’t breathe! Please!”

Struggling to breathe right, Bucky’s head spun. Just when he thought he was going to lose his lunch, the trunk opened and Mr. Rumlow knotted his fingers through his hair to yank him out. 

“Ow, ow! Let go! I’ll go with you, I’ll go with you!”  
“Not a chance, you shit.” Mr. Rumlow growled and continued to drag Bucky by his hair into the house. 

Since Mr. Rumlow kept his arm down and the grip of Bucky’s hair tight, Bucky was unable to walk upright. He was hunched over and trying desperately to not fall as he attempted to match the same speed. Stumbling over his feet, he could feel some hair coming out by the roots. Agony rippled through his scalp until he was finally let go when Mr. Rumlow tossed him forward. 

Landing on his side, the first thing Bucky did was curl up in the ball and grab at his head. A door closed. Bucky couldn’t move though. For several minutes he just stayed as still as he could manage, trying to work out the pain and calm himself from the ordeal of being in the trunk. His heart was pounding, his head spun, his stomach turned. Breaths still backed up on him and he didn’t even realized that he’d been crying until he felt tears drop onto the arm tucked under his head. 

When he was finally able to get ahold of himself and unfold his body, Bucky wasn’t all that surprised to see where he was. It was his rehab room as he came to think of it, only there was no longer a bed. It was totally empty. 

Bucky wiped his face clean of the sweat and tears, even a bit of drool that had leaked from the sides of his mouth, and pushed himself into one of the corners. Unable to breathe correctly, he just stared unseeingly at the door, waiting for it to open. Though his body wasn’t quite trembling, it jerked with fear every few seconds. Bucky had no idea what he was going to say to Alex when he came in. He wasn’t sure if he should beg for forgiveness, or lie, or just tell him the truth and hope for the best. None of it seemed right. 

The longer he sat there waiting, the more panicked and unsure of himself Bucky became. His head felt too heavy for his neck, and the rest of his body felt like it was slowly disconnecting. The silence in the room was hurting his ears, so Bucky put his hands over them. There was no telling how much time had past. For all he knew hours had already gone by and he was left in there to sweat this out on his own. But at last, the door opened. 

The second the doorknob jingled, Bucky’s stomach clenched and he was sure he was going to fall over. It wasn’t Alex though. It was one of the workers, and she brought in a folding chair. Without a word, or even glance in Bucky’s direction, she put the chair in the middle of the room and left again. Alex came in a few moments later. 

His glare was thick and heavy with the fury he must have felt for Bucky. As soon as his eyes landed on him, Bucky shuddered and pulled his arms around his body. Alex sat down on the chair and said nothing. All he did was fix his furious gaze upon him and let him fall to pieces under his scrutiny. 

The silence stretched on and on, and Bucky so badly wished Alex would do something, anything. Scold him, yell at him, reprimand him, put him down, hell, even hit him. Anything would be better than this maddening silence. But Alex just sat there glaring at him, probably waiting for that explanation Bucky promised. 

Bucky chewed on his fingers and curled his toes on the carpet, desperately trying to ease just a bit of his anxiety, of the dread that plagued him. Every few seconds, his eyes drifted up to meet Alex’s only he could never hold the contact. After several minutes, Bucky’s breaths turned rough and tears rushed to his eyes.

“I”m sorry,” He whispered though he couldn’t imagine that Alex could have heard him since it slipped from his tongue so softly. 

Alex got up off the chair and turned to leave.

“That’s not an explanation,” He growled. “You better have one when I get back or…”  
“I love him.”

The words just came out of his mouth without the commands of his brain. It was all he could think to say. Bucky couldn’t keep doing this anymore. It was too much to handle. He had no idea what would happen, but things needed to change. 

Just at the door, Alex looked back at him. His eyebrows were pulled in together, forming several wrinkles in his forehead, but the anger was still plain as day. 

“You what?”  
“I love him, Alex.”

Alex turned all the way around now to face him. 

“You love _who_?”

Bucky lowered his head. 

“Steve.” he murmured. “I’m in love with Steve Rogers.”

Taking in a deep breath, Alex pursed his lips and nodded a little before coming back to the chair and sitting down. He waved his fingers to beckon Bucky over. 

“Come here,” He said. “Let’s talk about this.”

Alex’s face was hard and intense, but Bucky crawled over to him, stopping about two feet in front of the chair. Folding his arms over his chest, Alex shook his head. 

“After all these years together, you think I’m going to hurt you now?” He said. “ _Come here_.”

Not quite sure what to expect, Bucky moved closer, bringing himself right by Alex’s knees. He needed to look up at him to see his face, but Bucky couldn’t do it. 

“Now,” Alex breathed. “Let’s clear this up. Are you really telling me that you’ve fallen in love with Detective Rogers?”

With Alex speaking to him calmly and rationally, his voice soft and patient, Bucky felt crushed under horrible guilt. A piece of him wanted to take it back, wanted Steve to just be his friend. He couldn’t do it though. He just loved Steve too much to lie about it, even to Alex, no matter how much it might hurt him--hurt both of them. 

“Yes,” He whispered. “That’s what I’m saying.”  
“Okay,” Alex sighed. “So what kind of love are we talking about? School boy crush? Puppy love? You just wanna fuck him? Or...head over heels, soulmate sort of love?”

As much as it pained him to do so, Bucky looked up at Alex. After everything he’d done for him, he deserved that much. 

“Head over heels, soulmate,” Bucky admitted. “I’m...I’m so in love with him, Alex, I can’t even explain it.” Sadness touched Alex’s face, and it made Bucky’s heart ache. “I...I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear.”  
“Why?” he wondered. “Why do you love him?”

Why? Why did he love Steve? How could Bucky ever put that into words? It was the way Steve held him. The way Steve made him feel so strong. The way he made him laugh and think that maybe he wasn’t such a screw up after all. The way Steve loved him.

“I just do, Alex,” He said. “I can’t explain it.”  
“So when you told me that there was nothing going on…”  
“No, no!” Bucky cried. “There wasn’t anything going on. I...oh, Alex, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”   
“I hardly doubt anyone ever _means_ for things like this to happen. I took you in, gave you a home, made you healthy, loved you, took care of you...and now,” He shook his head. “And now you’re telling me it was all worthless.”

Overwhelmed by the remorse, Bucky lowered his head onto Alex’s lap. Unlike normal, Alex left his hands over his chest rather than running them through his hair. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve it, but he felt an unimaginable desire to feel Alex’s touch. 

“No, Alex,” He buried his face in his legs. “It wasn’t worthless. I love you. I swear.”  
“But not as much as you love Detective Rogers. I can see it. Don’t you think I can see it?”

To that, Bucky had no answer. He just left his face right where it was and didn’t bother trying to respond. 

“Do you love him enough to leave me?”

Tears filled his eyes. Still, Bucky owed it to him to let him see, so he glanced up. Again, he had no words. But it seemed as though he didn’t need them. Alex nodded. 

“I see.”  
“I’m sorry, Alex. I won’t leave you. I promise.”  
“Why would I want you to stay?” He wondered. “I told you from the beginning that I was looking for something real. I don’t need someone who is just going to pretend with me.”  
“You...you want me to leave?” Bucky’s heart like it was breaking into pieces even though he was the one who wronged Alex in the first place. “But I love you, Alex. I do.”

Alex stared down at him, his expression soft and almost warm. There was still sadness behind his eyes, but he gave Bucky something of a smile. 

“Come here.” He whispered, holding his arms out. 

Bucky got up and sat on his lap where Alex wrapped his arms around him and kissed his neck. In response, Bucky rested his head on Alex’s shoulder, a few more tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry.”  
“Sh,” Alex finally ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. The familiar comfort actually made Bucky feel worse. “Do you think Steve Rogers loves you back, Bucky?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes, his entire face scrunching up. 

“Yes.”  
“Do you think he wants you to be with him?”

After all this time, all the testing Bucky unintentionally did and all the walls that Steve was slowly taking down, Bucky really was sure of it. And that was one of the most incredible sensations he’d ever felt, even if it was masked by the shame he felt at the moment. 

“I do.” He whispered. 

Alex guided his face back up so he could look at him. His hand gently caressed his cheek.

“Then...I think you should go be with him.”

He stated his opinion softly, sadly even. There was no anger or resentment. It was just like he was making an observation that upset him. 

Bucky stared wide-eyed at him. 

“You do?”  
Alex gave him that same sad smile. “Who are you, Bucky?”

That made him tear up again.

“Your boy.”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”  
“For me to be happy.”  
“Does Steve Rogers make you happy?”  
“Yes.”

Taking Bucky’s face in his hands, Alex lowered him enough so that he could kiss him. The second their lips parted, he pet his head. 

“Then go be happy, my boy,” He told him gently. “If Steve Rogers makes you happy, then go and be with him. Go be happy.”

Bucky couldn’t believe was he was hearing. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad. In fact, he wasn’t sure what he felt. There was excitement and fear and misery and elation but it all hit him so hard he just felt too much. 

“Really? You mean that?”

Since they’re faces were still close together, Alex kissed his cheek.

“Of course. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Face crumpling, Bucky threw his arms around him and cried. And cried and cried, and the entire time Alex just ran his hand up and down his back, murmuring words of assurance. 

Finally, when he just couldn’t cry any longer, Bucky kissed Alex and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry. I never meant…”  
“Shh,” He placed his fingers over his mouth. “I know, my boy, I know.”  
“WIll you…” Bucky wasn’t sure if this question was even allowed or if he even deserved an answer. “Will you find someone else?”  
“Someone else? You mean to replace you as my boy?” Bucky nodded and Alex cupped his chin. “I could never replace you, Bucky. Never.”

Bucky held in his tears this time and hugged Alex again, grateful that he held him in his embrace once more. 

“I love you, Alex.”  
“I love you, too.” He kissed his ear and then stood up. “Now, why don’t you go shower, freshen up for...for your new love. I’ll have a car take you there. And I’ll have some of your things sent to Detective Rogers’ place in the next few days. I won’t be able to take you coming back and not staying with me. Please understand that I’d rather just get our goodbyes done now. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself together if we need to go through this again.”

Goodbye? The realization that this was goodbye hit Bucky hard. Thirteen years Alex had provided for him, loved him, helped him, guided him. And now it was over. It was time to say goodbye. 

“Oh, Alex,” Bucky flung himself at him, throwing his arms around his waist. “I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Alex gave him one squeeze before moving away. 

“You’re welcome, Bucky.” He touched his face. “I hope you’re happy. Goodbye, my boy.”

Without another word, Alex leaned in, kissed him and then walked out. Bucky just stared out after him. He glanced around the room, a place he’d never be in again. That both excited and frightened him. This was it. This was the end. Bucky’s stomach churned at the thought. 

Bucky sucked in a jagged breath.

“Goodbye, Alex,” He whispered.

Then he smiled. 

Steve. Steve would be waiting for him. And Bucky could finally stay with him. The night didn’t need to end, the afternoons could go on and on, the mornings would last. Steve.

Steve.  
Steve.  
Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to check me out/follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, feel free to leave criticism. Just don't be rude about it.


	35. Here's another fucking chapter

“Mr. Pierce,” Steve nodded stiffly. “Can I help you?”  
“Indeed you can, Detective,” Pierce replied.

There was something smug about the way his lips pursed into a smirk. It made Steve nervous, as though he was about to lose something very important. He supposed it might be professional to invite Pierce inside, but he didn’t want to. He hated this man and would do nothing for him. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Pierce?” He grunted. 

Pierce tilted his head in Steve’s direction.

“You’ve taken something from me,” He said. “And I don’t take kindly to people taking my things. Just ask Georges Batroc.”  
“You don’t need to tell me,” Steve responded. “I know you set him up.” The rest of Pierce’s statement suddenly sank in and Steve’s heart twisted. “You think I stole something from you?”   
“Don’t play coy with me,” He stated. “You know what you’ve taken.”

Steve was too concerned with Bucky’s well-being to feign innocence. He felt his face get hard. 

“What did you do to him?”  
“I’ve done nothing,”  
Steve scoffed. “Nothing? You took an addict, a child addict at that, and twisted, manipulated, and emotionally abused him so badly he’s completely dependent on you. He can barely think for himself and what he does think about himself is nothing good. You’ve made him believe he’s nothing without you. You sabotaged his entire life. Every effort he made to be independent--his jobs, living on his own--you destroyed it and made him think it was all his fault. You made him think being off drugs was all your doing and that he was too weak to do it on his own. You’ve done everything you can to mold him into someone almost totally brainwashed into thinking he has no life outside of you.”

The smirk that lifted on Pierce’s face made Steve want to rip his head off. Everything Steve just described made him proud. The son of a bitch was _proud_ of what he’d done. 

“That’s right,” He agreed. “And you don’t get to just come and take my things. Not when I’ve put so much work into them.”  
“He’s _not_ a thing!” Steve growled. “He’s a person! A human being! You don’t _do_ that to a person!”  
“Why not?” Pierce wondered. “Whenever I want something, I get it. I wanted him, I got him, just the way I wanted. And you don’t get to have him.”

Steve burned with anger. His limbs shook and his face was so tight he could feel it turning red. 

“Where is Bucky?” He hissed. “What’d you do to him?”  
“I told you, Detective, nothing.” Pierce assured him. “In fact, he’s on his way over here right now.”

It was his tone of voice and sadistic expression that made Steve’s entire demeanor change again. Something wasn’t right. 

“Why?” He murmured. “Why is Bucky coming here?”  
“My boy is on his way to tell you that he’s leaving me for you.”

By Pierce’s face, Steve knew it was wrong to get excited and happy. But he couldn’t help it. Bucky had decided to leave? And for him?

“He is?”  
“That’s right. And when he gets here, you’re going to turn him away.”

Steve just eyed him, baffled and angered at Pierce’s statement. There was no way in hell he was going to turn Bucky away. He’d never.

“And why would I do that?”

Pierce crossed his arms, his eyebrows flicking up just once. 

“Because if you don’t,” His eyes lowered towards Steve’s chest. “I’ll have him killed right in front of you.”

Steve glanced down to see the little red light of a sniper’s rifle glowing right in the center of his chest. He snapped his head back up to glare at Pierce. Not one ounce of fear for his own life touched him. All he cared about was Bucky. 

“You’d kill him? Just like that?”  
“Oh, I don’t want to,” He practically sang. “I rather enjoy him; I might even love him. I know I love what I’ve made him. You should have seen him, so feisty and stubborn, headstrong and confident. How could I _not_ love what he is now, especially when I’m the one that did it? But I will kill him just to hurt you. Do I have your full attention now?”

Red flashed in front of Steve’s eyes, his chest expanding widely as he attempted to keep from losing it and just attacking Pierce. 

“Yes.” He grunted through his teeth.   
“Good. So, this is what you’re going to do. My boy is going to declare his endless love for you and you’re going to tell him that you don’t share the same feelings. You’re going to convince him that you’ve just been using him the whole time, that you’re disgusted by the idea of him, and that you want nothing to do with him.”

All the anger washed out of him. Steve couldn’t believe what Pierce wanted him to do. Turning Bucky away was one thing but this? This was too much. 

“I can’t do that,” He whispered. “It will crush him.”  
“Yes, it will,” Alex concurred. “You’re going to send him back to me bleeding and broken.”  
“I’m a horrible liar.” Steve admitted. “He won’t believe me.”  
“Make him believe you.”

A tremble rocked through Steve’s body, taking all the fight he had out of him. Bucky was on his way here with the intentions of staying forever and Pierce was here to make sure Steve did everything to rip apart all the trust and love he’d given to him. 

Then he considered all the times Bucky and he had spent time together--all the times Pierce was aware of--and it clicked. Pierce had encouraged their friendship, pushed them together more. Steve had thought he was only trying to distract him. But it was more than that.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”  
“Of course I did.” He laughed. “As soon as I saw the two of you had a connection I knew I could somehow use it to my advantage. A way was bound to come up eventually. And now it has. I found your weakness, one that I actually had all this time. You’ve been a pain in my ass for years. I own this city, Detective Rogers,” Pierce smirked. “And now I own the heart of it.”

Pierce stopped everything to reach into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and held it to his ear. He nodded.

“Very good.” He said and then hung up. “He’s almost here. Just a few blocks away. I’d be very convincing if I were you, Detective. And if you _ever_ try to turn him against me again, I’ll make sure he gets to you, piece by piece.”

Steve’s head spun. His entire body felt numb and weightless. He even needed to hold onto the doorframe to keep from falling over. Pierce had given him once last sly grin and started to walk away. 

“Mr. Pierce…” Steve found his voice, but it was weak and distant. Pierce glimpsed over his shoulder. “Please don’t make me do this. I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please...not this. Don’t make me hurt him.”  
“Oh, you _will_ hurt him. Break and crush him. Or I’ll kill him. It’s up to you.” He moved to leave again, and Steve could see headlights coming down the block. “Good luck, Detective.”

Within seconds, Pierce was in the back of a car and driving away, and another car was pulling up to the curb. What the hell was he going to do? He had no time to think, no time to prepare, and Bucky was getting out of the car, a big, hopeful smile on his face. 

“Steve!” He called out, waving his hand over his head in a happy greeting. 

Bucky trotted up the front steps and put his arms around Steve the moment he reached him. There was a twinkle in his eyes, a happy gleam that no one could miss. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve murmured, giving him a weak hug back. 

Bucky didn’t seem to notice and pulled away, that huge grin still pulled up on his mouth and making his entire face bright and happy. Steve felt so sick he thought he was going to pass out. 

“Guess what?”  
“What’s that?”  
“Alex and I...we came to an understanding,” He explained excitedly. “He wants me to be happy,” Bucky reached up to touch his face. “And you make me happy, Steve.”

Eyes closed softly, Steve’s hand quivered as he brought it up to press it against the one that Bucky had against his cheek. 

“What are you saying?”  
Bucky chuckled. “I’m saying we can be together now. I can stay here with you now, Steve.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Bucky put his other hand on Steve’s face and he moved forward to kiss him. Only Steve didn’t let him. His whole body protested moving away from him. The instinct to keep him alive forced him to do it. 

Bucky smiled as though he thought Steve was teasing him and tried to kiss him again. When Steve pulled away a second time, he snickered. 

“What’s wrong?”  
“Bucky, I…” He needed to lie better. He needed to keep him alive. “What did you think was going to happen here?”  
His smile was still clear on his face. “What’d you mean? I told you, we…”  
“Do you really think I want to _be_ with you?” Steve’s throat hurt, but he managed to make his voice hard and cold. “How can we be together?”

The patience and encouragement on Bucky’s face tore Steve in half. Bucky reached out and gently took hold of his shoulders. 

“It’s okay, Stevie,” He assured. “I know it’s scary. I’m scared too. But we can do this together.” Bucky smiled again and went to move his hands back to Steve’s face. “Come here.”  
“Don’t touch me!” Steve shouted, shoving his gesture away. The hurt and confused look on Bucky’s face felt like he was shot right in the stomach. “Jesus, Bucky, we had _sex_. That’s it.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide with confusion, his mouth hung open like he didn’t comprehend a word Steve was saying. 

“I don’t understand…” His whimpered. “You said you loved me.”  
Steve faked a scoff. “Yeah, I did what I had to to get you to sleep with me.”

Shock and disbelief flashed across his face, and Bucky looked down for a moment, then up, and then down again. It was like he couldn’t figure out what to do. 

“No, you don’t mean that…” He said weakly. “You don’t…”  
“Bucky, you’re a junkie,” The words burned in his mouth as Steve used them to touch upon Bucky’s deepest insecurities. “You’re a fuck up. You do nothing. Why would I ever love someone like you?”

The tears that filled Bucky’s eyes, the way he cringed and flinched with every insult Steve tossed at him, it made Steve want to scoop him up into his arms and just disappear with him. Take him somewhere they’d be safe forever. One tear slipped out and slid down Bucky’s cheek.

“But I love you.” Bucky somehow got out.   
“Well I want to love someone better than you.” 

The crushed look on his face would have been enough to break Steve if he didn’t know there was a sniper out there. Bucky just stared at him, the hope and excitement replaced by defeat and despair. 

“Go back to Pierce, Bucky,” He said. “Go back to your so-called life.”

For a moment, Bucky just stood there. His head moved about like he was trying to find something, his upper body following in suit. Silently, he finally turned around. Another moment or two passed before he started making his way down the front steps and back to the car still idle by the curb. When he was halfway down the walkway, Bucky peered over his shoulder. His face was lost and empty, desperate for Steve to come and fix this. But when Steve did nothing other than fold his arms over his chest, he just continued his lonely, miserable walk. As soon as he got into the car, without another glance in Steve’s direction, Steve bolted inside and slammed his body up against the door. 

Trembling and ready to be sick, he smothered his face with his hands and didn’t bother wiping the tears from his face. When he heard the car pull away, Steve dashed to the phone. He didn’t care that he was a mess, didn’t care that he was still crying. Steve needed to make this call. He got an answer right away. 

“Hey, buddy.”  
“Sam?” Steve’s voice cracked. “Sam, I need your help.”


	36. I Have No Idea What I'm Up To Anymore

“Go back to Pierce, Bucky,” Steve growled. “Go back to your so-called life.”

Pain. There was so much pain radiating through Bucky’s heart and body that he didn’t think he’d ever survive. And yet, he felt numb, totally numb. Nothing made sense--nothing at all. All of Steve’s razor-sharp words sliced through him like he actually took a knife to his skin. It all hurt so much. 

Bucky didn’t know what to do. He felt like a fool, just standing there on Steve’s porch like he would suddenly decide to change his mind and welcome him with open arms. After some time, an agonizingly long time, with Steve just glaring down at him like he was disgusted by the thought of spending any more time with him, Bucky just turned around. 

Nausea rocked his body. He felt weak on his feet and the whole world around him seemed to have glazed over in some sort of fog. 

Bucky wasn’t sure how he was doing it, but somehow he got his lifeless limbs to move. He even made it halfway to the car still waiting there. When he reached that point, Bucky looked back. Maybe this was some cruel, sadistic joke. Only Steve just glared out at him like he was the bane of his existence, like he hated the very idea of him. Dazed and confused, lost in the stupor his mind had become, Bucky continued his miserable and lonely walk back to the car. 

When he reached it, John didn’t come out to open the door for him. He was no longer obligated to serve Bucky now that Alex had released him. Bucky reached for the handle and opened the door himself, not even fully sure if John would take him anywhere. In the back seat, he just stared, not really seeing anything. There was nothing left to see, nothing left to feel. 

All the empty words, all the broken promises, Steve’s warmth, his tenderness--they were all meaningless. 

_I love you, baby._  
 **I did what I had to to get you to sleep with me**  
 _I’m not going anywhere._  
 **Do you really think I want to _be_ with you**  
 _Trust me._  
 **Jesus, Bucky, we had _sex_**  
 _You’re wonderful._  
 **You’re a junkie**  
 _I love your laugh._  
 **You’re a fuck up**  
 _I promise._  
 **You’re nothing**  
 _You deserve to be loved._  
 **Why would I ever love someone like you**

They were all lies. Everything Steve told him was just a fabrication designed to get Bucky to sleep with him. He had been taken advantage of before, but this...this was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Just when he was starting to believe Steve, believe all the sweet and charming things he’d told him, Bucky had it pulled right out from under him. 

He should have known better. He _had_ known better. Bucky had tried to keep Steve at arm’s length, but Steve kept weasling his way closer and closer to his heart. This was all his own fault. No one could possibly love a junkie, a screw up, a nobody. Now Steve had cost him the one person that had accepted him. 

What was he going to do? What _could_ he do? He’d already gone crawling back to Alex once, after his horrible attempt at living on his own. That time, he went back defeated and head lowered in shame. It had taken so much convincing to get Alex to give him the chance to try to be on his own. Bucky swore he could do it, and when he couldn’t, he needed to tell Alex just how wrong he was. 

This time, well, this time he was going back under completely different circumstances. Bucky didn’t leave in an attempt to try something new while still being with Alex. He had left Alex, said goodbye and walked out. Alex wouldn’t take him back now. Why should he? Bucky had abandoned him--he had done the one thing that Bucky feared would happen to him more than anything. After all that he’d done for him over the years, Bucky had thrown it all away for a pretty face and empty words. 

Nothing Steve ever said to him was true. Steve didn’t think he was strong. He didn’t think he was smart or wonderful or beautiful or worthy of love. Of course he didn’t think any of that. Bucky wasn’t strong. He wasn’t smart or wonderful or deserving of love. Bucky was nothing. 

Emptiness wrapped its ugly arms around him. Bucky really couldn’t feel his body. His mind was blank, totally unfocused on whatever was going on around him. 

“What happened?”

Bucky could hear the voice from somewhere far away. He couldn’t place it though, couldn’t answer it. It was amazing that anything even got through the fog swirling through his mind. 

“Bucky, _what_ happened?”

There was that voice again. Sure, he heard it, but he could make no sense of it. He didn’t know how to answer. Bucky couldn’t do anything. 

The slap to his face forced his head to the side. Fire burned across his cheek, and Bucky blinked a few times. He wasn’t in the car. He was back at Alex’s, on a chair in the sitting room. When did he move? How did he get here?

Bucky glanced up to see Alex standing right in front of him, hunched over just slightly to view him better. His eyes left Alex for a moment.

“He didn’t want me,” He managed to choke out. “Steve.” The name was like acid on his tongue and Bucky lifted his gaze again. “He doesn’t love me.”

Alex sat in front of him, on a chair Bucky didn’t see him pull over. He sighed, and Bucky looked away. The fog was clearing, Alex had started to make it go away, but right now Bucky wanted to keep it. He didn’t want to feel the emotions that were trying to break through. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Pressing his lips in for a moment, Bucky met his gaze again. Nothing was happening inside of him, not yet. 

“He…” His voice was far off and didn’t sound anything like him. “He told me to go away. Said he didn’t love me. That I wasn’t good enough to love.”

Alex sucked in a deep breath. 

“Did he say why?”

Brow creasing, Bucky opened his mouth a few times before he finally got the words out. 

“Because I’m a junkie. Because I’m a screw up. Because...because…”

When he trailed off, unable to continue, Alex just nodded. Bucky couldn’t tell if he agreed with everything Steve said or not. 

“Well, at least you know how he really feels now.”

The cold, hard truth of Alex’s statement hurt Bucky so much, his entire face crinkled. He didn’t understand what was happening. How could he have fallen so hard, so fast?

“But I loved him.” He muttered softly, his voice fragile and broken, and pulled his lips in to keep from crying.

Without another word, Alex got up. Bucky couldn’t watch him, he just didn’t have the strength inside to do so. 

“Take him back to where we found him.” Alex instructed.

Bucky felt the little bit that was left of him shatter when Alex said that. He lost everything. His mom, Alex, a roof over his head, food, warmth, love...Steve. It was all gone. 

“Sir, he’s been on your files too long,” Someone said. “If he’s picked up, they’ll take him back here. It’ll take a day or two to wipe him away.”  
“Fine. Set up a room for him. He can stay until he’s wiped.”

A hard resolve set upon Bucky’s face. He was resigned to his fate. This was going to happen one way or another. Life as he knew it-- _your so-called life_ Steve said--was over. There was no going back to it. 

Bucky let himself be brought back to his feet when two people--who wasn’t sure who on the staff it was at the moment--tugged under his arms. He didn’t want to cry. Sucking in big, deep breaths, Bucky tried to keep from doing so. But when he was being taken out of the room, and Alex just went right up the stairs without another glance at him with Mr. Rumlow right behind him, a whimper forced its way out his mouth. That one weak, pathetic sound undid him, and Bucky burst into tears. 

He wailed for hours, noises that were barely human coming from him. Bucky wasn’t even sure what room he’d been taken to. All he did when they brought him in was crumple into a ball on the floor and sob. Crying wasn’t something new to him, he had been doing it quite a lot recently, what with Steve tapping into emotions he never thought he’d feel. This was nothing like that. Bucky never felt anything so painful in his entire life. 

Give him drugs. Give him the streets. Give him Hank. Bucky would take anything other than the agony that plagued him. Everything hurt, all of him, inside and out. He couldn’t understand how he was even able to breathe, let alone continue to bawl the way he was. 

By the time his tears dried out, or momentarily stopped anyway, he felt so weak he could barely lift his head. Bucky just wanted to sleep. To sleep and forget all about this. For all he knew he _had_ slept and woke again with the pain and despair still all over him. Enough time had gone by, he was sure of that. Outside the room was too quiet. Still in something of a haze, Bucky sat up. A rush of tears hit him again but this time they fell silently. 

Sucking in a rough breath, Bucky wiped his eyes--not that it made a difference--and got up. His eyes scanned the room he was in. This was one of the guest rooms. Guest. He was a guest here. An unwelcomed guest at that. Tomorrow, maybe one more day after that, he’d be out on the streets again. Out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on his back. It had been so long, and he’d grown so accustomed to being spoiled and pampered, Bucky wasn’t sure if he had it in him to survive the streets again. 

He stood up and shook, his entire body trembling, and walked out into the hall. Arms wrapped around his body, Bucky stood for a moment right outside the doorway. Like he suspected, it was late into the night. The night guards were making their rounds. Not knowing if he was even allowed to come out of the room, even though the door hadn’t been shut, let alone locked, Bucky hesitated before taking his first few steps. Once he did, he realized he had no idea where he was even going to go. 

All he wanted to do was disappear, to leave everything behind. The only healthy way he could think to do that was to read. So Bucky went to the library. 

When he got to the room, he froze in the door. Alex was in there, sitting in one of the chairs, his feet resting upon the ottoman across from him, and reading a book. Bucky didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to go in there, if Alex would want him in there, but he didn’t want to be alone. Turned out he didn’t need to do anything. Alex looked up from the book. 

“Hello, Bucky,” He said as though Bucky was one of his business partners. “Do you want something?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. Was he even _allowed_ to want something from Alex?

“Um…” It came out small and meek. “I just...I don’t want to be alone.”

Alex snapped the book closed, the noise it made echoing in the quiet room. 

“Did you really come here to ask me to comfort you when the man you left me for rejected you?”  
Bottom lip quivering, Bucky lowered and shook his head. “No. I...I didn’t know you were in here.”  
“Remarkable coincidence then.”  
“Yeah…” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I”ll go.”  
“Well, I was just about finished in here anyway. I was about to go fix myself a snack. Would you like to join me?”

Somehow, more tears filled his eyes. Bucky blinked and wiped them away before they could fall. 

“Okay.”

Alex nodded and rose from the chair. He clicked the lights off in the library and came towards him. 

“Come on then.”

Following him to the kitchen, a nervous and awkward walk, Bucky didn’t say a word. What could he possibly say to this man? 

When they got to the kitchen, Alex pulled one of the chairs out for him and then went to the cabinet. Bucky’s chest hurt. That wasn’t his seat. He always sat across from Alex. Bucky sat down in the one Alex provided him with, gloom and misery attached to every part of him. 

In a few minutes, Alex sat down with him, and picked at the bowl of cashews he’d brought with him 

“So, any idea what you’ll do when you leave in the next few days?” He wondered, casually popping a cashew into his mouth. 

Bucky felt his face crumple, and he finally succumbed to what he knew would be doomed from the start. 

“Please don’t make me leave, Alex,” He beseeched, hearing the pleading and whimpering in his voice. “I’m so sorry I left. It was wrong. I was wrong. Please keep me.”  
“Oh now you want to stay, do you?” Alex said. “Now that your lover has rejected you? I get to clean up your mess?” Bucky weakly shook his head back and forth but said nothing so Alex went on. “Just a few hours ago you were all too willing to break my heart and leave for someone else. And now you expect me to take you back in?”

Shaking violently, Bucky wiped his face clean of the tears and secretions leaking from his nose. 

“I...I…” Bucky cracked and broke again. “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed. “I...I never st-stopped loving you. Never. I...oh God, Alex, I’m s-so sorry. I was so st-stupid t-to leave. P-please k-keep me. I-I’ll nev-never disobey y-you ag-gain. I d-don’t n-need an-anyone b-but you. P-please. I love y-you.”

When Alex pulled his lips together and sighed, Bucky looked down at his lap. He knew this would be a failure. Bucky started when Alex pushed his chair out. Nose stuffed, yet still running, and eyes still watering, he glanced up at him. His face was hard and serious. 

“Who are you, Bucky?”

The answer to that was still ingrained in his mind, yet Bucky had no idea if that was what Alex wanted.

“Y-your b-boy?”  
“And what do I want for my boy?”

Bucky could hardly breathe right, his breaths coming in rough and shallow. 

“For me to-to be hap-happy?”

Alex opened his arms, holding them down low. 

“Come here, my boy.”

Unsure how many times a single person could breakdown and survive in one day, Bucky threw himself at Alex’s feet. His head fell right into his lap and he held his arms tightly around Alex’s legs. He wailed again, wailed just as loudly and hard as he had when he first collapsed in the guest room. At first, Alex just let him rest in his lap as he became a weeping mess. Then, he put those strong, powerful fingers through Bucky’s hair. It only made Bucky cry harder. He had done nothing to deserve his comforting touch. 

“I’m sorry, Alex,” He sobbed. “I’m so so sorry.”  
“I accept your apology, my boy,” He assured him. “But if I’m allowing you to stay, you’re starting at square one. You do understand that, right?”

None of that mattered. Bucky didn’t care about his luxuries and privileges. All he wanted was someone who loved him. 

“I don’t care,” He whimpered. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”  
“That’s good to hear. You’re going to need to earn your place again.”

Bucky nodded, keeping his head firmly against Alex’s legs. Even though it appeared that he was done talking, Alex continued letting him cry. There was one thing that Bucky wanted to say, something he _needed_ to say, to get it out in the air, to hear it with his own ears.

“He said he loved me, Alex.” He cried. “He told me he loved me.”  
“Oh, my boy,” Alex cooed, lifting Bucky’s chin up. “I am sorry this happened to you. I guess I really am the only one who can love you.”

Alex was right. There was no one else in the world who loved him. Not his mother, not Steve, no one. There was only Alex, and Bucky never wanted to take that for granted again. Bucky ran his hand under his eyes, wishing that thought would lessen the pain somehow. It didn’t so he just placed his head back in Alex’s lap. 

“I love you, my boy.” Alex soothed.  
“I love you, too, Alex.” He murmured, wanting that to mean just as much as it used to, just as much as he meant it when he said it to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be posting a few chapters at a time now, depending on how quickly I can get through editting.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	37. And Here We Have the Planning Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be posting a few chapters at a time now, depending on how quickly I can get through editting.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)

Sam listened patiently to everything Steve told him. Not once did Steve see even a flicker of judgement pass across his face. Steve filled him in on everything, sparing only the most intimate of details. When he finished, he just sat there in silence, waiting for Sam to respond. For several minutes, he could feel Sam’s eyes on him, even if he didn’t say anything. Then, Sam let out a sigh through pinched lips. 

“Jesus, Steve,” He mumbled. “I mean...wow.”

Steve hung his head, unable to even hold it up.

“I know, Sam,” He admitted. “I’ve made a mess of things.”  
“Nah, you can’t help that.” Sam assured. “You fell in love with someone. I just didn’t expect it.”

An appreciative smile formed on Steve’s mouth. Though it didn’t do anything to brighten his face, he couldn’t help the reflex. It was Sam’s understanding. How could he not be thankful for that? Anyone had the right to walk out on him after taking such a huge risk. But Sam hadn’t, not yet anyway. 

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve said softly.   
“So, what’d you wanna do about this?” 

He looked up at him. There was only one thing he wanted to do, one thing he _needed_ to do.

“I have to save him, Sam.” He told him. “I can’t leave him there. Not after everything I promised.”

Sam nodded with a smile and got to his feet. He took the badge off his belt and dropped it down on the coffee table. 

“Okay. When do we start?”

Steve glanced up at him.

“You don’t need to do this, Sam,” He sighed. “This is my mess.”  
“I know. But you’d do it for me. I got your back. What are we gonna do?”

The fact that Sam was so willing to help him, even though he’d been hiding so much from him and had gotten himself into this, filled Steve with such an unbelievable sense of warmth. 

“That’s just it, Sam. I don’t know. I wanted to try to take Pierce down without Bucky being there. I didn’t want to risk him getting hurt.”

Sam shook his head, pulling his brow into a disappointed furrow. 

“I don’t think that’s avoidable now, Steve. I, uh, I also think we should pull our best resources in for this.”  
Steve frowned. “What’d you mean?”  
“You already know what I mean.”

Without elaborating any further, Sam pulled out his phone and began making calls. No matter how much Steve quietly protested anyone else getting involved with him--he didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt because of him--Sam just went on calling and filling everyone in on what had happened. Within twenty minutes Natasha, Maria, Sharon...and Clint, were at his place. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve asked. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital, Barton!”  
Clint shrugged. “I broke out.”  
“No, no absolutely not!” He exclaimed hands waving out in front of him. “No way am I going to let you…”  
“Like you have a choice,” Natasha grunted. “Like _we_ had a choice.”  
“Please tell me you didn’t help him with this.”  
“We all did,” Maria answered. “From what Sam says, we’re going to need all the help we can get for this one.”

Steve was quiet as all of them gathered in his living room, even Clint with his bandages, still bruised up and using his untested hearing aids for something a lot more than just idle chit chat. He just stared at them for a moment. All of these people were here for him, here to help him. No matter what the circumstance was, his team--his family--was there for him. 

If this had been a less serious matter, Steve probably would have pulled them all in for a huge hug. Instead, he tried to show his appreciation with a smile. Lips not cooperating with him, Steve ended up crying. He collapsed onto the couch, sitting at the very edge with his head in his hands. From the despair of Bucky to the hope from his team, Steve just didn’t know how to feel. 

“It’s all right, Steve,” Sharon comforted, running her hand up and down his back. “We’ll figure this out.”  
“We have to. _I_ have to. I…” He looked up at her. “I can’t lose him, Sharon. I just can’t.”

She gave him a hopeful grin and pressed her brow up against his. 

“So what’s our play?” Clint asked. “Go in? Guns blazing?”  
“I think it’s better if we’re a bit more subtle than that,” Natasha replied. “We need a sneak attack of some sort. Some reason to be there.”  
“And _then_ our guns blaze,” Maria stated. “All we need is that reason to be there and a reason to defend ourselves.”  
“But how?” Sam wondered “What reason would we have to be there at all?”  
“If we knew when another “shipment” was coming in then maybe we could intervene.” Clint suggested.   
Natasha sighed. “Yeah, but we don’t _know_ when they’re going to try again.”  
“Actually…” Maria chimed in and exchanged a glance with Sharon. “That’s not exactly true.”

Steve glanced between the two of them, knowing Sam, Clint and Natasha did the same. He rattled his head. 

“What do you mean, not exactly true?” Steve asked.   
“Well,” Maria reached into her back pocket and pulled out a phone that was clearly not her own. “You know Fury’s been sending us on special assignments, right?”

They all eyed the phone.

“Yeah, we know that,” Natasha nodded for them to continue.   
“So that special assignment was to follow some out-of-towners,” She pressed a button on the phone and it was just static at first. “This is what we got.”

After a few more seconds of static, voices started playing out of the speaker. At first it was just normal conversations between two men. Then, they started talking about Pierce. It only took a couple of minutes for them to put together what was going on. 

“Is that the FBI?” Clint questioned.   
Sharon nodded. “That’s who it is.”  
“Well what’d you find out?” Steve rushed them. “What is this?”

Sam placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. When he did that, it registered to Steve that he had been close to flying up off the couch. Placing his hand atop Sam’s, Steve took in a deep breath. He got a comforting squeeze before Sam took his hand back. 

Maria turned the recording off.

“They’ve been surveying Pierce and his goons since the incident at the docks,” She nodded at Clint. “You got their attention.”  
“Hey, I was bound to do something right.”

Maria smacked her lips together. 

“They were already investigating,” She went on. “They picked up on the pattern, but it was Clint’s stunt that sped them up, got them here.”  
“And what did you get out of them?” Natasha asked.   
“For one, that all,” Her face pinched with anger, “‘shipments’, go to Pierce’s for approval first.”  
“And second?” Steve wondered.   
“Second…” Sharon picked up where Maria left off. “Second, they’re expecting one two days from now.”  
“Wait a minute,” Sam interrupted. “You mean to say that a meticulous man like Alexander Pierce has the women up at his home before he ships them off?”

The anger is Sam’s voice was clear in everyone in the room. 

“He only does two a year,” Maria clarified, though she was no less at ease by this information than the rest of them. “We interfered with the last one. Normally, he has Batroc do this while he’s not there. If anything went wrong, he could just claim he had no idea what was going on. He and Batroc were business partners. Batroc would have gone down. That’s what Pierce wanted, but he kept himself away from it all. That’s what Batroc was doing at the docks. Pierce changed it to set him up. Someone tipped him off about Barton trailing him.”  
“So this time he’s doing it himself?” Natasha questioned.  
“According the the phone records we’ve happened to gather up from FBI intel, yeah. He plans on doing this one and then finding another partner to replace Batroc.”  
“Which means we only have this chance.” Sharon summed up. “If we mess up, we’ll lose it.”  
“Then we don’t mess up.” Steve said. “We make this count. We have to.”

They all looked at him, and Steve could see the sympathy written all over them. Not one of them judged him, just like Sam hadn’t. Each of them cared so much about him that they were willing to risk not only their careers, but their lives to help with this. 

“None of you have to do this.” He told them. “I understand if you don’t want to. Please, don’t do anything if…”  
“Steve, give it a rest.” Sam sighed. “We’re with you.”

He gazed around the room at them again. They all gave their nods of agreement to Sam’s declaration. Once again, Steve was so touched he just couldn’t find the right words to show it. He just nodded. 

“So do we try to intercept the truck with the girls?” Clint wondered. “Do we stop it? Question the driver?”  
“No,” Natasha denied. “Even if we _did_ get something from the driver, Pierce would get out of it.”  
“It’d get back to him first anyway.” Sam added. “It’d get back before we even had enough to charge him on anything.”  
Maria nodded to Sam’s comment. “We need to do it there.”   
“We need a reason to be there.” Sharon said. “Without that, we’ll never get anything to stick in court.”  
“Then what’s our play?” Clint asked. “What do we do?”  
“I think I have a plan.” Steve remarked. “It’s a long shot, and it’s going to require a lot of precision and perfection, but…”  
“Whatever it is, it’s better than we have now,” Natasha commented. “What’s on your mind, Rogers?”

Steve nodded and divulged his idea. He let them know they would need to call in a few favors and had already figured out everyone’s role and place. There were positions and certain times, all according to the information Sharon and Maria had recorded from the FBI. None of them backed out, even after hearing his crazy idea. 

In fact, they went over and over it, hashing out the finest details and banging out anything they could think that would hinder them. Though nothing was ever a hundred percent foolproof, they all wanted to come with as many variables that could come their way beforehand. 

They were certain they’d be able to get into Pierce’s place, and get in on the record and everything, without much of a problem. The calls they needed to make to secure more help was already done. Everyone they needed was in. Other things were riskier, like distracting the FBI and getting everyone out alive. Which was the one thing Steve kept returning to.

“Are you guys sure?” He questioned. “I mean...you could die. Are you sure this is really worth it? I understand…”  
“Why not?” Natasha shrugged. “I mean, this whole thing got started by Clint blowing himself up. Might as well finish it with a bang, right?”  
“And did you just ask if we’re sure you’re _worth_ it?” Sam shook his head. “Man, I never wanna hear you ask that again.”

Steve gave them all an impish smirk as everyone made some sort of indication that they agreed with Sam’s statement. 

“Hey, Pierce made it personal for one of us,” Clint remarked. “That means it’s personal for all of us.”

There was no way Steve was going to talk them out of this. Even if he wanted to, which, he did, if only for their own safety, he couldn’t. He needed them. Needed their help in order to succeed. An air of optimism permeated through his entire home. As though they weren’t all going to be risking their lives in another day, his team sat around as nonchalantly as any ole day. They cracked jokes and made witty banter and laughed and laughed. 

Steve just sat back and watched. As grateful as he was, he just couldn’t bring himself to join them in their playfulness. He would though. Steve would sit back and enjoy life again when he rescued Bucky and made his family whole.


	38. Well Shit, Here's Another Chapter

Alex allowed Bucky to sleep at the foot of his bed. It was better than the floor, it was much better than the streets. He was with someone who actually loved him. 

“You’ve had a hard day,” Alex had told him when he brought him upstairs, tucking a blanket around him. “Sleep now, my boy, and tomorrow we can start fresh.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around the pillow he had and needed to catch his breath before responding. 

“Thank you, Alex.” He whispered. 

Alex wiped some of the leftover tears from his cheeks and then kissed his temple. He left to wash himself up in the bathroom, and Bucky smothered his face into the pillow and wept even more. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew there was sunlight creeping in through the windows. His chest hurt from gasping, he felt lightheaded and woozy. Bucky sat up, the blanket Alex had put around him sliding off, and he looked around the room. Confusion swirled around him. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure where he was, and then when the place registered, he couldn’t remember what he was doing there. It hit him like a ton of bricks, like a bullet to the stomach, and Bucky felt numb again. 

Holding back a gasp, Bucky bit down on his lip to keep from crying again. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. They were still puffy and almost sore. He knew he wasn’t allowed to leave the bedroom. It probably wouldn’t even be smart to get out of the bed without permission. But he felt a new round of hysterics coming on, and Bucky didn’t want to wake Alex.

“Bucky?”

He whirled his head around, startled by Alex’s voice. Bucky’s thoughts had him so distracted that he hadn’t even heard or felt him sitting up in the bed. 

“You’re up early,” Alex pointed out.   
“I…” _Don’t cry. Please don’t cry_. “I couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

His voice was just above a whisper, he could hear how weak and feeble it sounded. Alex nodded and moved the covers away from himself. Once he was free from the blankets, Alex came closer.

“Lay down.” He instructed.

Bucky did as he was told, placing head back upon the pillow, which still had wet spots from his tears. He could feel Alex lifting the blanket he’d given him and it was draped over him again, this time with Alex right behind him. Alex slipped his arm across Bucky’s torso and pulled him in close. His lips found the back of his neck and Bucky held onto Alex’s forearm. 

“Try to get some more sleep, my boy.” He murmured into his ear. “You were tossing and turning all night.”  
“M’sorry,” Bucky mumbled.  
“Don’t be.” Alex ran his fingers lightly along his chest. “Just try to rest. I don’t want you getting sick.”

That’s what Steve had told him. He claimed he wanted Bucky to take care of himself. Steve had held him when he said didn’t want him to get sick, too. He told him he still loved him even when he was mad at him. That itself made Bucky feel sick. He had fallen for it, fallen for all of it. Bucky actually started to believe in Steve. It was the biggest mistake of his life. He couldn’t even bring himself to regret the drugs more than he regretted his time with Steve. If he had any idea he’d end up like this, he wished he’d never met him at all.

Bucky felt so foolish. He swore to himself, as he laid there in Alex’s arms--Alex, the one person in the world who really loved him--that he would never fall for something like that again. No one would manipulate him, take such cruel advantage of him again. Bucky would turn himself off. It was made clear now that he didn’t have what it takes to be loved. If he couldn’t even be accepted by Steve Rogers, the Heart of the City, then there was no chance for him at all.

***

The day had been even more painful than Bucky could ever imagine. Bucky hated Steve Rogers. He hated everything he said to him, every promise he broke, every hug he gave him, every kiss they shared. He hated his face, and his eyes, and his voice. He hated that he made him believe things about himself that, would be amazing, but would never be true. Steve had almost cost him everything. Food, a roof over his head, clothes, comfort, Alex. It would all be gone if not for Alex’s mercy.

Bucky wanted to make everything he had of Steve just disappear. He would gladly wipe him from his mind if he was able to do so. There was no reason to have him stored in his memories. All it did was cause him more pain.

Worst of all, as much as Bucky hated Steve--and he hated him with all that he was made of--he still loved him. He loved him more than he hated him, and that made him hurt even more. It had been less than a day, but Bucky missed him. He missed him so much. Bucky wanted to hear his voice again. Not the hard, cold voice that shattered him to pieces, but that warm, comforting voice. 

All day long, Bucky had to fight back tears. It took all he had not to fall apart again. Silent tears did fall every now and then; he just couldn’t help it. Everything just felt so meaningless now. It was ridiculous to think such things. After all, he hadn’t lost Alex. Alex decided to keep him even after the horrible mistake he’d made. He had even pushed back everything he had planned just so he could spend time with Bucky. 

Despite being without luxuries and privileges, Alex ate breakfast with him. Bucky sat in his normal seat and pushed the food around his dish. It tasted bland--even though it was his favorite, chocolate chip pancakes with bacon. He ate just enough of it so that Alex didn’t need to say anything to him about it. There was just nothing to it, and Bucky’s stomach hurt anyway. Alex talked to him, but he was only able to give one or two word answers. Anything longer and his voice would start to crack. 

Afterwards, Alex suggested going outside to the pool. He thought maybe the sun would help cheer Bucky up. In no position to argue with the logic, Bucky agreed. They did go outside, but it did nothing to lift Bucky’s mood. He tried to smile when Alex said something funny. He tried to at least grin when he said something nice. No matter what he did, the muscles in his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It was like they didn’t want to listen. Sunshine, the beautiful pool, the clear skies, they did nothing for him. Bucky saw none of it, felt none of it. All he felt was empty inside. 

When they ate lunch on the terrace, he felt nothing. Their walk on the beach, something that Bucky used to cherish, meant nothing. In the library, when Alex had him sit by his feet and then read to him, Bucky couldn’t pay any attention to any of the words. Although his brain felt like mush, and wouldn’t absorb anything, tears slid down his cheeks. He didn’t gasp, his breathing was fine, his heart wasn’t pounding. Bucky just had so many more tears to shed, and they came they entire time he sat there. 

Dinner was no different. He still had no appetite. The food still tasted like nothing, and he still felt nothing. Alex didn’t say too much while they ate. Bucky hated this. He didn’t want to feel this. He didn’t want to feel anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Bucky _did_ want to feel. He wanted to feel the way he did when he was with Steve. 

No. No, he wanted to feel the way he did _before_ Steve. The way Steve made him feel wasn’t real. None of that was true. He had lied to him, deceived him, made him question his life with Alex--all so he could have sex with him. It made Bucky feel dirtier than he ever felt in his life. 

“When we get up tomorrow, this is over, you understand?”

Those words made Bucky’s stomach fall. He glanced over at Alex, a little surprised that they were in his bedroom. He didn’t even realize they were there. 

“What?” He whimpered. 

Alex rattled his head and came closer, placing his hand gently under Bucky’s chin. He kissed him.

“I don’t mean us, my boy.” He clarified. “I mean _this_.” Alex gestured to Bucky. “Your moping, your sulking, it ends. What happened happened. It’s over. Steve Rogers doesn’t love you and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s insides twisted. “You need to move on.”

Bucky struggled to keep his face straight as he nodded--struggled and failed. He crushed his jaw trying to do what Alex wanted. Alex placed a hand on both his shoulders and then pulled him into his arms. That undid him again. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t hold it together. Bucky put his arms around Alex’s torso and held on so tight he thought it might have hurt him by the way he inhaled roughly. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky cried. “I don’t want to feel like this. I never want to feel like this again.”

“I know, my boy.” Alex comforted, running his hand up and down his back. “You just stay with me and you no one will ever do this to you again.”

The gratitude that washed through him was quickly overpowered by his misery. Would this pain ever go away? 

It wasn’t any easier the next day, but Bucky did more to fake it for Alex’s sake. He was lucky enough to still be there. It wouldn’t be right to subject Alex to his endless brooding. So when they finished their breakfast, Bucky asked if they could go out together.

“What would you like to do?” Alex asked.   
“Maybe we could go shopping?” He suggested.   
Alex licked his teeth. “You do realize the last time I took you shopping you walked out on me.”

That felt like ages ago. Bucky could barely even remember that day now. It was clouded over with more horrible things. 

“Oh…” He whispered. “I understand.”

But Alex sucked in a deep breath and told him to go upstairs to get dressed and ready to go.

“I’ll take you shopping, my boy.” He promised. “I did say we would start fresh. I am a man of my word.”

That actually got Bucky to lift his lips up a bit. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it wasn’t forced either. 

“Thank you, Alex.”

In his room, Bucky went through his dresser to find something to wear. The first thing he saw when he opened his top drawer was the hoodie that smelled like Steve. The sight of it hurt. That pain only increased when he made this mistake of bringing it up to his nose. Steve’s scent was still on it. 

Right before the tears showed up again, Bucky squeezed the shirt so tightly in his fists his arms trembled. He marched over to the garbage pale and flung it in there and then hurried to ready himself for a day with Alex. Alex. All he needed was Alex. 

Bucky went into the bathroom to wash up. His face looked pale and sunken so he scrubbed it as though he could somehow wash away his pain. He was going to do what Alex wanted. He would move on. Not only that, Bucky would prove how much he loved Alex. He put on the shirt Alex loved best on him--a dark blue, silk button down--styled his hair the way he liked most, put on the cologne he got him, made sure his face was clean of any scruff since it started to grow and Alex preferred him clean-shaved. 

By the time he was finished, Bucky took a good look at himself in the mirror and sucked in a deep, shaky breath. 

“You can do this,” He encouraged himself.

When he met Alex in the front hall, he was greeted with a proud and impressed smile.

“Now _there’s_ my boy.” He said, holding his arm out and putting it around Bucky’s waist. “Let’s go show you off to the world.”  
“Oh, Alex,” Bucky forced a chuckled. “You only want to cause the world can’t have me.”  
“That’s right.” He replied. “You’re _all_ mine.” Alex kissed his cheek. “And _I’m_ all yours.”

That time, Bucky didn’t have to fake it. He smiled. It wasn’t big or wide, not like it would have been a few weeks ago when Alex said something like this, or if it had been Steve, but he still did it. 

They spent the entire day out, getting back when the sun was setting. Being out actually helped a little. Bucky was able to focus on other things. Alex took him to all his favorite stores where Bucky modeled various outfits for him. He bought several of them for Bucky, all the ones he said looked best on him. Even though his library was thoroughly stocked, Alex let him buy two bags worth of new books. They ate lunch at one of the outdoor cafes and Bucky was able to make pretty decent conversation. When they finished lunch, Alex surprised him with a trip to the spa, complete with aromatherapy steam showers, tension melting massages, facials, manicures and pedicures. 

Alex was with him the whole time, and save for their extended massages at the spa, they chatted almost like nothing had happened. By the time they were finished Bucky felt...something. Spending the afternoon being pampered and fussed over did do a little bit to lift his spirits. They even went out to dinner. This was the life he could only have with Alex. This was the life he wanted. 

The only reason they even went back when they did was because Alex had business to attend to that evening. He didn’t make Bucky leave right away though. Instead, they went into the sitting room. Alex pointed to the spot right in front of the recliner he sat in. 

“Sit, my boy.” He handed Bucky one of his new books. “Here you go.”

Bucky took the book and began to read. He concentrated very hard on the words so his mind wouldn’t wander. His mind was so focused that he didn’t realize he was a quarter of the way done with the whole book until someone called for Alex’s attention. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Pierce,” Mr. Rumlow said from his spot not quite in the room yet. “There’s someone here to see you.”  
Alex checked his watch. “Now? They’re early.”  
“No,” Mr. Rumlow shook his head. “It’s not them. It’s Detectives Wilson and Romanoff here to see you.”

Bucky felt his breath get caught in his throat when Mr. Rumlow said Detective Wilson. For just a split second, he thought maybe Steve would be with him. He didn’t expect the crushing disappointment when he realized he wasn’t. 

“What are they doing here?” Alex asked.  
“Something about them following up on a _lead_ ,” He told him. 

Alex’s face pinched with aggravation. His lips curled in a defiant smirk, even though there was no one there he needed to defy. 

“Very well,” He cooed. “Let them come in. We’ll see what little games Fury wants to play today.”

Mr. Rumlow nodded and left to bring the detectives in. Nerves and anxiety swelled up inside Bucky. His body broke out in a cold sweat as he sat there waiting for them to come in. Bucky even trembled when he saw Mr. Rumlow coming back, and the two people behind him. When the detectives came in--Mr. Rumlow stepping aside and leaving again--neither of them really took any notice of him there. Of course they wouldn’t. For Sam Wilson, he was just a distant memory, some guy who rudely walked through this very room naked. For the other--Bucky thought her name was Natasha, he recognized her from the painting Steve was doing that he ruined--she knew nothing of him. It wasn’t like Steve would tell anyone about him. 

“Detectives,” Alex greeted. “What a lovely surprise. I was so pleased to find out you rescued Detective Barton.”  
“Thank you.” Detective Romanoff said, her face relaxed yet her gaze intense. “We were quite relieved ourselves.”

Next to her, Detective Wilson pulled his mouth up into a crooked grin. Alex leaned forward. 

“So, what can I help you with this evening?”  
“Perhaps it’s best we speak privately.” Detective Wilson suggested, his eyes drifting to where Bucky sat on the floor.   
“Bucky.” 

It was all Alex needed to say. He wanted him to leave the room and Bucky got up to go even though he longed to stay. Still, he couldn’t help taking a peek at the two detectives--two members of Steve’s family--as he went by them. Detective Wilson didn’t even share a passing glance. Detective Romanoff simply gave him the same look she was giving Alex. Neither of them knew anything about him. 

Bucky didn’t realize how much that would hurt. It was just something he never expected to even know. Steve was gone, but that didn’t mean his presence wouldn’t haunt Bucky forever. 

As Bucky headed upstairs, it suddenly occurred to him he didn’t know where Alex wanted him to go. Normally, when he sent him away, he’d just go to his own room. But a room to himself was a privilege. In order to play it safe, Bucky decided to sit in Alex’s room and wait. 

He was only there for about fifteen minutes when he heard a noise--a noise that made him freeze. Then he heard it again, two more times--the unmistakable sounds of gunfire. Following it was glass breaking and then yelling, lots of yelling and more shots. Bucky could hear people running, more yelling and even more guns firing. 

Dashing to the door, Bucky stopped with his hand around the doorknob. He had no idea what was going on out there, no idea if he should leave to find Alex or if Alex needed him. Heart pounding, he sucked in a deep breath and got the gun from Alex’s nightstand drawer. Bucky was no stranger to the firearm--Alex had taught him well. When he could hear clearly people coming towards the room, he clicked the lights off. He wouldn’t need them to get his target. 

Bucky crouched down and pressed himself against the wall in the corner, so when the person out in the hall opened it, he was still safely hidden in the shadows. It was dark enough that when the person stepped into the room slowly, and glanced in his direction, he was unseen. Bucky knew immediately it wasn’t one of Alex’s guards. The moment the person was fully in view--reaching for the lamp next to the bed--Bucky raised his weapon and cocked it. The sound it made was just enough to alert the person to his presence and spin around, but not enough for them to escape Bucky’s shot. From in the shadows of the room, Bucky knew he got them right in the arm. He could hear a muffled swear and grunting from the man he’d shot as he wrapped his hand around the wound. 

“Don’t fucking move.” Bucky growled.  
“Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide at the sound of his voice and, though he kept the gun aimed, he didn’t move when the lamp came on, flooding the room with light. 

“Steve?”


	39. The Chapter You've Been Waiting For

“What time is the call going through again?”

Steve was sitting on his couch. None of the team had left his place for long since the other night. He could feel his nerves begin to stir, even if his determination was as strong as ever. They had gone through their guns, making sure they were clean and loaded and working properly. All of them had vests except for Steve, who, being on “vacation” wasn’t supposed to be there at all. Sharon and Maria had their scanner running the whole time to make sure nothing had changed with the FBI. So far so good.

Scattered on the coffee table were various pieces of equipment they’d be using or might need. There were guns, knives, bullets, a smoke bomb, and walkie-talkies. Steve was dressed in a sweatsuit, giving him free range to move about as best he could.

“Just about thirty minutes,” Sam answered him. “Come on, Steve. We got this.”  
“You trust us, right?” Natasha asked.

Of the six of them, Sam and Natasha were the only ones who actually _looked_ like cops tonight. They had their badges on, their guns at their hips and just had that professional look about them. 

“Of course I do.” Steve assured her. “It’s _them_ I don’t trust.”  
“None of us do,” Clint remarked, cleaning out the barrell of one of the three sniper rifles he had with him. “Which is one of the reasons _none_ of you are going to be alone in there.”  
“Steve?” Maria stepped out of the bedroom with a small electronic device in her hands. “Here’s that new earpiece from Tony. We should test it out again.”

He nodded and took the earpiece, gently putting it in place. Making sure it was secure and comfortable, Steve turned to Sam and Natasha. 

“You clear?” Sam asked.   
“Clear.” Steve nodded.   
“We should get going.” Sharon said. “That truck isn’t going to wait for us.”

Agreeing with them, he picked up his two guns and stored them on his body, one behind his back, the other at his ankle. Then he grabbed the smoke bomb, stuffed it and one of the walkie-talkies in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Steve let out a heavy breath and looked out at all of them. This was it. Once they walked out that door there was no going back. 

“Don’t,” Clint grunted. “We’re not backing out.”  
“We’re seeing this through to the end, pal.” Sam added. 

He wanted to thank them, to say something that could somehow convey his appreciation. No words came to mind. 

“We know,” Natasha said. “Just go.”

Just giving them a farewell nod, Steve left with Sharon and Maria. They piled into Maria’s personal car and drove two and a half miles downtown. Their scanner was on the whole time. The van of FBI agents was still sitting in front of Pierce’s house. If all went to plan, they’d be leaving soon.

When Maria pulled over, switching the lights off before doing so, she pointed out the front window. Steve leaned forward to see the white van pulled back into the loading dock a little over a block away. He checked his watch. The call was going through in less than twenty minutes. He reached behind his back to wrap his hand around his gun.

“Relax, Steve.” Maria murmured. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”  
“You said it yourself.” Sharon reminded him. “We need to time this perfectly.”  
“Yeah.” Steve breathed, checking his watch again and mumbling to himself, “Come on.”

His eyes were focused on the truck out there. The seconds ticked on by, and it seemed like an eternity. Steve felt the car getting smaller the longer they were kept waiting. Finally, someone came out of the side door and got into the driver’s seat. All three of them readied themselves the second the truck turned on. The lights going on was Steve’s cue. 

He shoved the door open and jet across the street, keeping himself hidden in the shadows. Now Steve needed to rely on Maria and Sharon. His heart slammed against his ribs, and slowed to a normal beat when the truck pulled out. A calm, serene sensation pumped through him, like a warm anesthetic was plunged into his veins. Everything appeared clear and he was focused on the task. Though his eyes were on the truck slowly coming closer, he could just make out the sounds of two car doors opening and closing. Within moments of the truck reaching the block they were on, Sharon and Maria stepped in front of it, guns drawn and badges out. 

The truck screeched to halt and Steve could hear the two identify themselves and demand that the driver let them into the back. There was some arguing and more demands, even some threats, and then Steve heard the man give in. The driver’s side door open and a few moments later the back door of the trailer slid up. Steve moved then, sprinting to the front of the truck while Sharon and Maria were telling the people in the back that everything was going to be okay. 

Steve needed to wait just another moment, just until the driver attempted to alert someone to what was going on. He stepped out and around the side of the truck as soon as he heard the driver’s approach. The man had just reached into the cabin for his radio.

“You don’t want to do that,” Steve said, startling the man enough to spin around. 

Since Steve had his gun pointed at him, the man put his hands up in the air. Steve acknowledged the surrender with a quick nod of his head and then smacked him with the side of the gun. The hit knocked him back and out. Before he could fall to the ground, Steve caught him and loaded him into the front of the truck, shoving his body onto the floor by the passenger seat. He climbed in and got in the driver’s seat. 

“We’re good to go, Steve.” came Maria’s voice from the piece in his ear. 

Steve reached into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out a small, black walkie-talkie. He pressed the side button.

“Tony, we’re good.”

He waited a moment and after a bit of static, Tony’s voice came through the speaker.

“Roger that, Rogers.”

Ahead of them, Steve saw a truck identical to the one they’re in turn the corner. Tony was in that one, dressed as a delivery man, truck stocked with baked goods. Steve waited for him to get a few blocks before driving off in the same direction. As he drove, Steve glanced at his watch. Any minute now, Bruce would be making a call to the station claiming to have heard signs of domestic violence--a call they _needed_ to answer without facing consequences. 

“This is car 314,” 

Sam’s voice spoke softly in his ear. He wasn’t talking to Steve though. He was answering the call, and he and Natasha, along with Clint stowing away in the back, would be headed to Pierce’s. Just one more thing and they’d be in the clear. For this half anyway. Trailing several blocks behind the truck Tony was in, Steve started holding his breath. Even from that far back, Steve could see the van the FBI agents were in. When Tony drove past them, Steve started to sweat. They needed them out of there to make this work.

“We got em’, Steve.” Sharon said through the earpiece. “They’re going after him. We’ll have about a ten to fifteen minute window.”

An air of relief swirled around him as he turned into the driveway. Steve didn’t even need to pause by the gates. They opened for him right away, and he just drove on up. He followed the path Sharon and Maria had learned the trucks did and pulled into a garage. The door closed behind them and the one that lead to the house started to open. Steve flipped his hood up and kept his hands on the steering wheel. 

Two men emerged from the door, talking amongst themselves about a woman named Clare. Neither of them even paused to notice that Steve was in the truck instead of the intended driver. They walked around to the back, still chatting like everything was normal. That infuriated Steve. Here these two men were, knowingly coming to check on a truck full of women that Pierce intended to sell. His grip got tighter on the steering wheel when the door on the trailer rolled up. The two men fell silent and Steve could hear Sharon and Maria telling them to keep quiet and not move. 

“Put your weapons on the ground.” Sharon demanded.

From the proximity of her voice, Steve could tell they’d gotten out of the back and were standing in the garage itself. 

“Kick em’ over,” Maria instructed. 

They had moved enough so that Steve could see them in the side mirror. Sharon had her gun out at the men while Maria stepped forward with her cuffs ready. She snagged the closest one by the back of the neck, slammed him into the side of the truck and slapped the handcuffs around his wrists. As soon as she did that, Sharon made her move and did the same to the other. 

“Now, Steve!” Maria called. 

Steve flew out of the truck without even looking back at the others. He burst through the door and into a kitchen. There were several people in there, including Brock Rumlow. The second he entered, Rumlow jumped out of his seat at the table, reaching for his gun. Steve had wanted to wait longer for this, but he yanked out the smoke bomb and lit it, tossing it towards the door he was headed for. He was still running through the room when Rumlow took his shot. Steve ducked down, even though the shot was wide and hit the cabinets just behind him. There was no chance for Rumlow to try again.

The smoke bomb went off just as Steve got out the door. Smoke quickly filled the room behind him, spilling out into the hall. Despite the chaos that was already picking up, Steve could hear Sam and Natasha’s shouts from the other side of the place. Another gun fired. Twice. One from ahead, likely where Sam and Natasha were, and one from back in the kitchen. Loud voices, yelling and shouting directions, were coming towards him. 

Steve stepped into a room to the side, just managing to disappear right before anyone saw him. He leaned up against the wall, waiting for them to dash by.

“Barton?” He said into the walkie-talkie.  
“I got eyes on Wilson and Romanoff,” Clint answered. “They’re good. No sign of your man. Pierce had him leave.”  
“Stand by.” 

Keeping calm, Steve closed his eyes for a moment to brace himself and then rushed back out there. More guns went off. There was yelling and shouting and sounds of people scrambling about. Steve could hear Rumlow’s deep voice roaring directions, and saying Steve’s last name several times. In response, Steve moved quicker. He headed towards the first set of stairs he saw. 

“Steve…” Clint’s voice came from the piece in his ear. “The feds got to Tony. They’re on their way. ETA two minutes. Back up is coming, too.”  
“Roger.”

Steve continued up the stairs and found himself in a long hallway. This place was so huge that he wasn’t sure where he was. From where he stood, Steve could see it opened up to a larger, more spread out area. A cacophony of voices and guns rang up from down below. He was already running out of time. 

“Barton,” He spoke into the walkie-talkie. “Second floor. East side.”  
“Copy that.”

Running down the hall, he ended up at the top of the main staircase. Steve glimpsed over the edge of the railing to see men with guns sprinting by. He pulled away from the stairs and took a look around. This spot he recognized. Straight ahead was Bucky’s room. Steve raced for it, bursting through the door. The light from the hall shined in enough for him to see that it was empty. His heart fell. If Bucky hadn’t been with Pierce, where Sam and Natasha was, it had been his hopes that he’d be there. Though he already knew he wasn’t there, Steve rushed to check the bathroom. Like he figured, it was empty. 

Steve stepped out of the room and back into the hall. He had no idea where to go now. There were so many rooms, so many places here that Bucky could be anywhere. Breaths coming out hard, Steve jumped when he heard the front doors burst open. 

“FBI!” 

They were here. Which meant more were coming. Steve needed to find Bucky and get him out of there before anyone thought he was involved with any of this. He started to move again when he saw a light go out under the door a few rooms away. It was risky, going in there without knowing what he’d find, but Bucky was worth that risk. 

Steve paused right outside it, gripping the doorknob tightly. He sucked in a deep breath and opened the door. It was dark now, and there wasn’t all that much illumination from the hall to fill this room like it had in Bucky’s. He stood there for a minute. There was no one he could see, but he knew there was someone in there. Cautiously, he stepped in and first glanced over his shoulder, but it was so dark he couldn’t see anything. Slowly, he made his way to the lamp over by the bed. Just when he was about to turn it on, every hair on the back of his neck stood up and he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun’s hammer being pulled back. 

His heart skipped a beat as he spun around and moved just enough to the side so that bullet got him in the arm. Steve grabbed at the wound immediately, swearing and grunting, and reached behind his back for his own gun.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Steve gasped. 

“Bucky?”

There was a moment of silence. 

Hunched over from being shot, Steve slowly moved back up and, eyes on the dark figure in front of him, he reached out and clicked the lamp on. 

“Steve?”

Relief flooded through him like the light that flooded the room. Bucky was there, right in front of him. Sure he was pointing a gun at him, he was pale and his eyes were wide, but there he was. That’s all that mattered to Steve. 

“Bucky,” He breathed, a smile just forming on his mouth. “Come on, Bucky, we have to get you out of here.”

Blood spilled out of him, not fast enough for Steve to think he was hit anywhere vital. Hand still firmly wrapped against the gunshot wound, Steve moved to step towards Bucky, reaching out to him. Only Bucky stiffened and took aim.

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.” He growled, keeping the gun up and pointed at him. “Why would I go anywhere with _you_?”

Steve held his palm up to him. He had been so relieved to find him that he hadn’t considered this. So he gave Bucky a patient and understanding nod. 

“Okay, I get it,” He said softly. “But I didn’t _mean_ any of those things the other night, baby. Pierce...made me say them. I love you, Bucky. I swear, I love you.”

Bucky crushed his jaw, his nostrils flaring and eyes burning with heat and rage. The gun rattled in his trembling hands. 

“Shut up!” He yelled. “You’re a liar! You’re a fucking liar! Alex wouldn’t do that! He loves me. You...you…”  
“No, Bucky! Please, _please_ listen to me. I _love_ you. Pierce has been manipulating you, _abusing_ you for years!”  
“No _you_ manipulated me!” Bucky jerked the gun at him. “ _You_ did!”  
“Okay, okay, if…if Pierce loves you and you love Pierce, and he’s so good to you, then why were you going to leave him?” Bucky didn’t answer, but his eyes flicked to the side for the briefest of moments. “It wasn’t just _me_ you were leaving him for. He makes you feel weak, he doesn’t let you know how smart you are or wonderful you are. You _know_ he wasn’t giving you love, you _know_ that. You were leaving him for _you_.”  
“Shut up.” He muttered weakly. “You don’t know anything.”

But Steve ignored him. They were running out of time.

“Yes, I do. I know that Pierce has been lying to you. Your mother? She’s been writing to you every week for twelve years. She had no idea you were waiting for her that day. She loves you, Bucky. She misses you. I know that when someone loves you they don’t make you feel inferior and worthless. I know that you’re so much more than what Pierce has made you believe.”

Bucky’s face had softened a bit. His eyes swarmed with unshed tears and he looked so confused and lost. Then he curled his lips and took aim again. 

“No! No, I won’t let you fuck with my head again!”

Steve felt so drained, so helpless. Pain radiated through his body from the bullet in his arm, and that was nothing compared to the thought of not getting through to Bucky. He lowered his eyes and stared to reach behind him. Bucky went rigid.

“Look, I’m moving very slowly.” 

Steve calmly took out the gun back there and started to get down on his knees, placing the gun off to the side. He then took out the one at his ankle and did the same. Holding his arms out to the side to show he was no threat, Steve glanced up at him. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky questioned, voice angry and hard.  
“I’m nothing without you, Bucky.” He told him. “ _Nothing_. I love you and I’m not going to do anything to hurt you ever again. So, you do whatever you have to do.”

Bucky’s expression was fierce and almost brutal. He was holding his breath, his body so tight that his hands were shaking. And then he released the oxygen from his lungs and dropped his arms down. He looked completely defeated.

“Oh God…” He gasped. “Steve...what’s happening?”  
“It’s okay, Bucky. Everything’s going to be…” 

He couldn’t finish his statement. Not when he saw Pierce strolling into the room as though the FBI hadn’t just raided his home minutes before. Steve snatched up his gun and aimed it at him. 

“Stop!” He ordered as Pierce stepped up to Bucky. “Get away from him!”

Pierce was nonchalant and confident in his approached. He even smirked when he slipped his arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Give me the gun, Bucky.” He requested, sliding his hand down Bucky’s arm and easily removed the weapon from his weak grip. “That’s my boy.”

Bucky had glanced down at his hand when Pierce took the gun from him. It appeared as though he was in a fog, a daze of some sort and didn’t realize what he’d done. He looked up at Pierce, who leaned in to kiss him. Bucky complied with the gesture, pressing his lips against Pierce’s for a moment. Then Pierce pointed to gun at Steve.

“Alex…” Bucky whimpered. “Please don’t hurt him.”  
“Drop your weapon, Detective Rogers,” Pierce commanded, his voice remaining just as calm and casual as always. “You don’t get to just come into my home and _steal_ what’s mine. You _do_ remember my last warning, don’t you?”

A lump formed in Steve’s throat. He understood the threat. If he didn’t unarm himself, Pierce would kill Bucky. The man had nothing to lose anyway. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve murmured. “I’m going to have to break that promise I made about not doing anything reckless.”

Steve tossed the gun. Bucky whipped his gaze at Pierce, eyes wide and pleading. Pierce sneered at Steve. Sirens sounded outside, getting closer and closer.

“Give it up, Pierce.” Steve tried to reason. “It’s over. My team is here. The FBI is here. You’re not getting out of this one. Don’t _add_ to it.”

Pierce’s eyes shifted to the window as though trying to see the incoming officers. He cracked a condescending, sadistic grin. 

“You think you beat me, Rogers?” Pierce shook his head like the idea was absurd. “You might inconvenience me with a trial, but I own enough people in this city that it won’t make any difference. But you? You’re a fool. _I_ beat you.”

With those final words, Pierce shoved Bucky towards him and pointed the gun right at the back of his head as he stumbled forward. The fear that raced through Steve was unprecedented. 

“Bucky!” he screamed, lunging up and grabbing him by the front of the shirt. 

Steve yanked him down and into his arms, swirling them around to cover him. At the same time, he heard the gun go off. Another bullet went through the back of Steve’s shoulder. He gasped and seized around Bucky. Glass broke somewhere in the room and two more shots went off. Neither of them hit Steve.

“Bucky!” He called, staring down at him. “Bucky, are you hit?”

Fear and confusion filled Bucky’s face when he peered up at him. He was breathing hard and heavy, his clothes damp with sweat, when his eyes slid to look behind Steve. Bucky’s face fell, all the color draining from it as he struggled against Steve to sit up. 

“Alex?” He whimpered.

Steve glanced over his shoulder. The gun Pierce had was on the floor, having fallen from his hand. Blood blossomed through his shirt, right at his stomach. Skin sweaty and ashen, Pierce staggered forward. Bucky pushed away from Steve and caught him before he fell.

“Alex!” He cried, scooping Pierce into his arms. “No! Alex, no!” Bucky’s eyes frantically sought out Steve. “Steve, please! Please, help him!”

Glimpsing over his shoulder, Steve saw the window was shattered. There was only one person who could have taken that shot and hit Pierce with the confidence of not hurting Bucky. Barton had said no one was going in alone. That included Steve.

Steve struggled to move over to where they were, but Pierce lifted a shaky hand to Bucky’s cheek, smearing blood on his skin when he touched him. 

“That’s my boy.” Pierce wheezed.

His hand slipped away from Bucky’s face and Bucky enveloped him in his arms, pressing him right up against his chest.

“Alex...” He wept. “Please…” 

But it was too late. The life quickly left his eyes, and Alexander Pierce died in Bucky’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be posting a few chapters at a time now, depending on how quickly I can get through editting.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	40. After a Long and Grueling Last Chapter We're on This one

Bucky held Alex’s body close to him. He smothered his face, stained with tears and blood, in his hair. Trembling all over, he pleaded for Alex to come back, to be alive, to be okay. Alex couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t. Bucky needed him. Bucky loved him. Then he lifted his head, Alex’s hair brushing against his chin, and something horrible sank in.

“Steve?” He whispered. “Steve, he...he was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

Steve shifted in the spot he was in a few feet away.

“Bucky...I…”  
“Oh God…” Bucky yelled through his teeth. Panic swept over him, but he couldn’t let go of Alex’s body. “Steve, get me out of here. Please, get me out of here. Get me away from him.”

He could hear Steve moving, and all the noises from downstairs sounded even louder now. Steve came over and put his hands under Bucky’s arms. There was a tug to lift him up, only Steve wouldn’t be able to, not while he held on so tightly to Alex. So Bucky loosened his grip and let Steve pull him to his feet, allowing Alex’s body to slip from his arms. 

Bucky felt Steve’s warm arms wrap around him. Tears fell from his eyes. Nothing made sense. Everything had fallen apart in just seconds. He didn’t understand, and then again, he did. Steve was right--about everything. Alex had been lying to him, hurting him all this time. Alex had tried to kill him. And Bucky still loved him. Why? Why was this happening?

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve murmured over and over again. 

That was when Bucky realized just how violently he was shaking. He couldn’t control it. Weak and numb, it finally registered that if Steve wasn’t holding him, he’d be on the floor, unable to stand on his own. 

“Steve…” He could barely hear his own voice. “I don’t feel so good.”  
“Come on, baby.”

Steve wrapped his arm around his waist and Bucky leaned most of his weight into him. Being guided out of the room, Bucky felt dizzy and woozy, and then remembered something. 

“I...I shot you.” He whispered.   
“It’s okay.”  
“Are you…” Bucky’s stomach turned. “Are you hurt?”

Before Steve answered, tons people of were swarming around them. Bucky had no idea where they came from or how they got there without him noticing, but they were surrounded, while others went storming through the halls and into all the other rooms. They had swat gear on, guns out and pointed at them. All of them started yelling things that Bucky couldn’t understand. 

A rush of fear shot through him, and Bucky clutched onto Steve who was saying something back to them, his arm up and lifted. There were flashlights shining at them and some others pushing through everyone else and Bucky couldn’t make sense of anything going on. Someone shoved their way out of the crowd, shouting and pushing people aside as he tried to get to Steve. Everyone around them started letting their guard down, lowering their weapons and some dispersing to other parts of the house. Bucky didn’t recognized the black man, dressed in a suit with a gun at his hip, who darted to Steve’s side. 

They were talking, Bucky could see the man’s lips moving and feel the vibrations coming from Steve’s chest, but he was unable to catch any of the words. Steve started walking again, headed down the stairs and took Bucky with him. A tiny smile formed on his lips when they reached the first floor and some more people crowded around them. One of them, Bucky was pretty sure it was Sam Wilson but his vision was hazy and blurry, reached out for Steve. Steve winced when his arm was touched and Bucky was once again reminded that he’d shot him. Bucky wished he could say something, but he couldn’t find his voice. It was like his body wasn’t working right. 

Then he was outside and no longer in Steve’s arms. Bucky didn’t remember going out there, not really, though he did sort of recall walking again. There was a blanket around his shoulders and Steve was sitting on the floor of an ambulance a few yards away, his legs hanging off the back. Two women were next to him while the medic worked on his arm. He thought he recognized them. Even though everything was so foggy, Bucky was sure that the blonde was the woman who had told him to call Steve at the diner that morning. He wasn’t sure why that registered when he could barely tell what was going on right in front of him. Now that Steve’s shirt was off, Bucky could see all the blood that stained his arm and chest. 

That’s made Bucky glance at his own hands and touch his cheek. On his face, on his hands, on his shirt was blood. Alex’s blood. Steve’s blood. It was all over Bucky. He couldn’t help thinking that Alex was dead and Steve was hurt and it was all because of him. He felt sick.

All around him people were being led away in handcuffs. Alex’s security, the guards, even all the staff. Some were crying, some were struggling, some were arguing. Lights flashed in every direction, shining and spiralling on the top of the patrol cars that filled the front yard and driveway. Police officers, some in uniform, others in plain clothes, milled around the property. There were even people with FBI jackets on. All the while, Bucky just stood there, silent and dazed. 

“Is that the one?” He heard someone ask.

Bucky turned his head slightly to see two men staring at him. By their jackets, he could tell they were FBI agents. He tried not to look at them and pulled the blanket tighter around him, trying to keep hidden from them. They murmured a few more things until one of them came forward.

“Excuse me,” He said politely. “Would you come with me, please?”  
“I...um…” Bucky didn’t know what to say. He glanced back at Steve, who was still in the back of the ambulance and talking to the two women. “O-okay…”

He nodded in appreciation and gently took hold of his arm to guide Bucky to where he wanted him to go, his partner leading the way. They headed to one of the police cars, the light on top of it flashing. 

“Need to ask ‘im to id someone.” The man in front called out to another cop.

That cop nodded and from what Bucky could tell--and it was a little difficult to be sure with the person standing in front of him--he opened the back door.

“Is this the boyfriend?” he asked before stepping aside. 

Bucky just stared out at him when he heard the answer and felt all the blood drain from his face.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Brock Rumlow replied, cuffed and in the back of the car. “Pierce’s little pet. He’s been in on the whole operation for years.”

He licked his teeth and tossed a cruel, arrogant flick of his eyebrows at Bucky before the cop slammed the door closed again. The man in front of Bucky grabbed hold of him and started dragging him away.

Bucky wanted to yell for help as he was put in handcuffs. Nothing happened. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t muster up the strength. The only thing that happened was a small croak.

“Steve?” He managed to squeak out.

No one would be able to hear him over all the clamor and it finally happened. Bucky’s stomach flipped so much that bile climbed up his throat and out his mouth, burning as it did. He hunched over and everything inside of him clenched painfully. It hurt even more when the man yanked him back up.

“Jesus.” He mumbled. “They don’t pay me enough for this shit.”  
“Hey, hey!” Someone shouted and raced over. “Not this one.” He reached for Bucky and pulled him away from the FBI agent. “This one’s with us.”

Bucky had no idea who this was, but he was firm and adamant about not allowing the agent to take him away. This guy was bruised and cut up though, with a brace on his wrist and a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. 

“I have it on good authority that this one was involved with the whole thing going on here.” The agent argued. 

He had gone to take hold of Bucky again but the man jerked him back so he couldn’t grab him. 

“Oh yeah? Well I have it on _better_ authority that he’s not,” He mocked. “Of the two of us, who’s been working this case for years and who’s the one reaping all the benefits cause he got called into work today and was so excited he didn’t even take the time to make sure his socks matched?”

“What’s going on here, Barton?”

That was the detective who came with Sam Wilson earlier, Bucky recognized her voice and saw her strut over.

“Nothing, Tasha,” Barton replied. “Just the Feds thinking they know what’s what here. Trying to tell me our boy here is somehow _involved_ with this.”  
“Oh really?” Natasha folded her arms. “That’s funny, cause I’m pretty sure this has been our case for years, so I figured we knew what’s what a bit better. But I’m sure this agent here knows what he’s doing.”

The agent huffed and flung his arms up. 

“Fine. You want him?” He pulled out a set of keys and Barton guided Bucky around so that his hands were facing him. The agent took the cuffs off. “Take ‘im. Be my guest.”

As soon as the handcuffs were off his wrists, Bucky rubbed the pain out of them, and when the agent was gone, this Barton guy put his hands on his shoulders. 

“You all right, kid?” He asked.  
Natasha put her hand on his bicep and gave him a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Barnes. Everything is gonna be fine.”

How did she know his name? Why were these people helping him? They were cops and, while he wasn’t what Brock Rumlow made him out to be, he _was_ here for years. Others were being arrested and they had just gotten there a few weeks ago. 

“Bucky?!” Steve was suddenly running over.

Barton stepped aside and let Steve take his place. He pulled Bucky into his arms and Bucky could feel how heavy his breathing was.

“What happened?” Steve asked when he pulled away, holding him at arm’s length, eyes and voice panicked. “Are you okay?”

Everything had happened so quickly. And yet everything was moving in slow motion. The world started spinning around Bucky and he was cold and shaky. 

“...Steve, I...don’t…”

And then everything went black.


	41. Chapter 41

“Bucky!” Steve shouted as his body crumpled to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Bucky! Help! Get a medic over here!”

Clint and Natasha had taken to clearing a path and Sam was leading two EMTs over to where they were. They knelt down on either side of Bucky while someone pulled Steve up and away from them so they could work. Steve checked behind him to see that it was Sharon who lifted him up. 

“Was he hurt?” One of the EMTs asked.  
“No, I…” Steve rattled his head, the air around him feeling suddenly very thin. “I don’t think so.”  
“I think he just passed out.” Natasha commented. “Stress and all.”

The EMT on the other side of Bucky nodded as she continued taking his vitals as the other put an oxygen mask on him. They asked Steve questions, things like if Bucky was allergic to anything and his age and if he was on medication. Steve answered what he could and watched them work, feeling more and more helpless as the seconds ticked by.

“Steve, he’s gonna be fine.” Sharon comforted.

Weak and lightheaded, Steve looked at her. After everything that went on tonight, he couldn’t have something happen to Bucky, not now.

“What happened?” He asked. “What was he doing over here? I looked away for two minutes and he was gone.”  
“Feds,” Barton answered. “Said some bullshit about having info on ‘im.”  
“They were arresting him?”  
Natasha nodded. “We took care of it.”

That was exactly one of the things he was trying to avoid. Steve had wanted to get Bucky out of here before the FBI ever saw him. 

“None of you are hurt, right?” Steve asked.

They had confirmed that when he and Bucky first got down the stairs, but he just needed to hear it again. Sam had jammed his arm when he dove behind a couch and Natasha twisted her ankle, but no one else said anything bothered them.

“We got out in better shape than you,” Sam replied, grazing his hand across the bandage on the back of Steve’s shoulder.   
“It’da been worse if Barton hadn’t taken that shot.” Steve nodded at Clint. “Probably saved my life.”  
Clint shrugged. “I owed you. Now I only got two more debts to pay.”

Sam and Natasha rolled their eyes.

Steve gazed at Sharon. “Where’d Maria go?”

The both of them had been talking to him at the ambulance that had been ready to cart him off to the hospital not five minutes ago. Steve had refused when he couldn’t see Bucky anymore.

“With Fury,” She told him. “And the women. They’re all safe and they’ll be taken care of.” Sharon shook her head. “You need to go to the hospital, Steve.”  
“I’m not leaving without--”  
“You can hitch a ride with us,” The EMT holding Bucky’s head in place as the other strapped him to a backboard offered.   
“Is he okay?”  
He tilted his head. “Pulse is fast and his breathing is a bit shallow, but he’s stable.”  
“Go on, Steve.” Sam gently pat his back. “We got it here.”  
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

The EMTs were loading Bucky onto their stretcher and one nodded for him to come along. Steve followed, adding quick farewell and soft thank yous to his team, and climbed into the ambulance behind the EMT. He sat on the seat next to Bucky, while the woman filled out some paper work. 

It was silent as they drove off the property and to the hospital. Steve just watched Bucky the whole time. He was so still, and looked so vulnerable and helpless. There was blood smeared on his face and hands, some staining his shirt, too. Steve wished he could clean him up. He moved to take hold of Bucky’s hand and then thought better of it.

“Oh…” He cleared his throat to get the lady’s attention. “Can I…?”  
She nodded. “Go ahead.”

Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s, leaning in and kissing his knuckles. He ran his free hand over his hair and tears began to build in his eyes.

“Wake up, Bucky,” He whispered. “Please.”

***

The hospital room was too cold. Goosebumps raised up on Bucky’s skin, so Steve had tucked an extra blanket around him. He hadn’t stirred, not even a little. They had cleaned him up, washed the blood off of him, and put him in a hospital gown. Even though he was cleaned up, seeing Bucky in the hospital gown--breathing tube in his nose, IVs in his arm, not moving except for a few eye flutters--made him seem even more helpless. Bruce had assured Steve that, physically, he was fine. 

“His mind needs to rest,” He told him. “It couldn’t process everything properly, so it...shut down, so to speak, to protect itself, to protect him.”  
“But it’s been over an hour.”  
“Give him time.” Bruce said. “He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

Steve hated feeling so helpless. He wished he could reach Bucky, tell him that he was here, that he was safe. He’d never talked to someone unconscious before, but he did now. Things like how much he loved him, that everything was going to be okay, to please just open his eyes. But even three hours after they got there, after Bruce insisted that he look at Steve’s arm, determined that, even though Steve had been shot twice, nothing major had been damaged, and stitched him up, Bucky still had his eyes closed. 

All he could do was sit there and wait. No one had bothered trying to make him leave. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. Steve wasn’t going anywhere. There was no way he would take the chance of letting Bucky wake up to an empty room. He was going to be there until Bucky woke up.

“Any improvement?”

Steve had been slouched in the uncomfortable pink chair, his head resting in his hand, elbow upon the armrest. He looked up to see his visitor. 

“Not yet, Rhodey.” He replied. “How’s it going at the scene?”  
“Not winding down yet. There’s quite a lot to go through.”  
“Yeah. It’s a big place.”  
“Mm-hmm.”

Rhodey stepped into the room and walked to the foot of Bucky’s bed. He looked at him, eyes lingering there for a moment before turning his attention back to Steve.

“So was that stunt all to get Pierce?” He asked, a smirk pulling up one half of his mouth. “Or was it for him?”

Steve gave him an uneasy smile, one that would have been much brighter if the situation was different.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m on vacation.”  
“Right,” Rhodey scoffed. “And Tony Stark really _does_ moonlight as a bakery delivery person.”

That made Steve laugh. 

“Is that what he said?”  
“Oh yeah. That man knew exactly what to say. What’s your excuse for being there?”  
“Just doing my civic duty. I was walking, heard a commotion, went to see if everything was okay.”

Grin on his lips, Rhodey shook his head and let out an amused sigh. 

“Guess you just happened to get lucky, huh?” He licked his teeth. “And Alexander Pierce happened to get shot, too. Must have been one of his enemies taking advantage of the situation.”

His eyebrows lifted. Steve stared at him, unsure what he was getting at. It was clear he knew that wasn’t true.

“What?”  
“Well, he was shot before backup got there, and none of our agents could have taken a shot like that. That’s the best explanation, isn’t it? I mean, the only one around here with that skill level is Clint Barton. And he’s upstairs in a bed. Has been the whole night. I just checked on him.”

Steve bowed his head, fighting back a smile and a laugh. Then he looked back at Bucky. They weren’t in the clear yet.

“What about…”  
“Dunno what he was doing there,” Rhodey shrugged. “It’s strange, he _used_ to be on some of Pierce’s files, and, strangely, all information on him with Pierce has...disappeared. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a ghost. He doesn’t exist.”

The gratitude that filled Steve was enough to make his eyes fill with water. He blinked the tears away before any of them could leak out. 

“Thank you, Rhodey.”

Rhodey put his hands out. 

“Don’t know why you’re thanking me,” He said. “I’m just doing my job.” Then Rhodey put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Your team did amazing. This was a victory. Alexander Pierce wouldn’t have seen any real jail time. You should be proud.”  
“I am...I mean…” Steve rubbed his forehead. “I would be more if…”  
“I get it.” Rhodey squeeze Steve’s shoulder before letting go. “Dr. Banner said he’d be fine.” Steve only nodded, eyes focused on Bucky. “Look, I gotta head back to the station and help Fury fill out some long and gruelling paperwork. I’ll be in town another day or so. Is it all right if I pass by?”  
“Of course. I owe you.”  
Rhodey chuckled, already on his way out. “Yeah, remember that next time you need a favor.”

Once he was alone with Bucky again, Steve laced their fingers together. He leaned in and kissed his temple. 

Steve was so scared, so terrified that something would happen to him. Even though Bruce assured him that everything was okay, that he just needed to rest, he couldn’t help worrying that Bucky was trapped somewhere inside his own brain, caged in some horrible memory that would never let him escape. Or perhaps he was just dreaming in there. Dreaming of the life he deserved. A good world, away from the horrors he’d been subjected to.

After all that Bucky had been through, what the poor guy had to go through next, Steve wouldn’t blame him if he chose to remain asleep. 

“I love you.” He whispered. “Come on, Bucky. I need you. Please, don’t leave me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be posting a few chapters at a time now, depending on how quickly I can get through editting.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	42. Oh no.

There were gunshots. Alex. Steve. Alex’s hand shoving him forward. Alex holding a gun. Alex’s body in his arms. Steve shot. He shot Steve. Alex was dead. Alex. Where was Alex? Steve? Cops. Lights. Chaos. Fear. Tears. Black.

Darkness. 

Bucky didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Why was it so dark? There were sounds around him. Sounds he didn’t know, couldn’t place. 

Beep...beep...beep...

Something poked at his arm. Something was in his nose. But Bucky couldn’t move. He was dreaming. At least, he _had_ been dreaming. Whatever images that had played out in his mind were lost somewhere in a glassy haze. It was something Bucky should remember, he was sure of it, but there was nothing. Now he was waking. It was a slow going process, but he wasn’t asleep anymore, not really. 

He felt trapped somewhere, like he was caged in his mind and couldn’t get out. A part of him didn’t mind. There was something bad waiting for him out there, he knew that much. Something bad had happened even if he couldn’t remember what. Only he couldn’t stay like this forever. The fog was lifting, and suddenly his eyes were open.

Bucky didn’t know what he was seeing. He didn’t recognize any of what he saw. Machines were right next to him. He was in a bed. Weak and numb, Bucky tried to move his head so he could look around. All he managed to do was see a little more on the side he was already looking at. Someone was there. It was a woman. She was sitting in a chair, a big, ugly chair. 

Everything was still very blurry, like there was something over his eyes and obscuring his vision. She looked familiar. Who was that? What was she doing here? Where was here? Opening his mouth, he attempted to call out to her. Nothing happened. So Bucky squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them wide. The film over his eyes lifted, and Bucky could see the woman clearly. 

It...no...it couldn’t be. 

“...Mom?”

Her head snapped up. When she looked at him, Bucky knew it really was her--it was his mom. She was there, wherever _there_ was. Her hair was longer, and she looked a little older, thinner too, and tired, very tired. She hopped up and brushed her fingers across his brow. 

“Bucky!” She exclaimed softly. “Oh, baby, you’re awake.”  
“Mom.” Bucky smiled weakly. She was with him. By his side. He tried to look around and pick himself up a little, but he felt too unsteady to do it. “Mom, what’s going on?” His voice was hoarse and raspy. “Where am I?”  
“You’re in the hospital, baby,” Wendy put her hand on his. “You passed out.”

Passed out? When did he pass out? He didn’t remember passing out. In fact, he couldn’t remember...a lot. There seemed to be things missing from his mind, gaps between being with Alex and now. He was groggy and shaky, very tired and confused.

And then suddenly that didn’t matter. Not Alex or where he was, what Bucky couldn’t recall clearly, or even how he felt. All that mattered was the fact that his mom was there with him. Who knew how long he had with her before Alex took him out of here. He had been so nervous about this moment and now that he was faced with it, all the things he practiced saying had disappeared. None of it was good enough anyway, not if he wanted to win her love back. Guilt and love rushed through him, and Bucky could only think of one thing to do. He picked his head up so he could see her better. 

“Oh, Mom,” He felt panicked and still so dazed and out of it, but he needed to get this out. “Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean…”  
“Shh,” She soothed, caressing his forehead with the back of her hand like she used to do when he was sick. “It’s okay, Bucky.” It looked as though she was fighting back tears. “You’re going to be okay.” 

When one tear slipped out of her eye, Bucky felt awful. Why was he always making her cry? But before he got to say anything else, she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I love you.” She murmured, still hovered over him and eyes closed. “I missed you so much.”

Bucky couldn’t believe his ears or the smile that her words brought to him. She loved him? Really? Just like that?

“I love you, Mommy.” He whispered, unable to bring his voice any higher than that. 

He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, like there were weights on his lids, making them heavy and pulling them closed. His head dropped back down to his pillow.

“What...what’s wrong with me?”  
“Nothing, baby,” She cupped his cheek. “Just get some rest. You’re okay.”

Bucky’s eyes closed even though he tried to keep them open. He felt himself drifting away again, falling back to sleep. 

Steve popped into his mind right before he would have reached actual sleep. Steve. He had been with Steve. He was hurt. Bleeding. Why was Steve bleeding? What was wrong with Steve? Bucky needed to know. He couldn’t go back to sleep without knowing where Steve was. 

Bucky pried his eyes open again, forcing all the sleep that had almost consumed him away. 

“Mom…” He gasped. “Steve. Where is...Steve?”  
“I’m right here, Buck.”

He rolled his head to the other side. Sure enough, there was Steve. He looked ragged and exhausted, like he’d been up for days, but he pulled the folding chair he was in closer when Bucky turned to him. Wearing only a white a-shirt, Bucky could see a bandage taped to the spot under his collar bone and near his shoulder. There was something warm around his hand, and Bucky’s eyes moved down to see that Steve’s hand had taken hold of it. He brought it up to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

Bucky struggled to stay awake. What was wrong with him?

“You were hurt…” He mumbled. The only reason he knew the words came out at was was Steve’s reaction. “What happened?”  
Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about that now. I’m fine. You just get your rest.”

No. No he wanted, _needed_ , to stay awake. Bucky wanted to know what was going on. Despite all his attempts at staying up, it was useless. His body was so washed out, so weak, that he couldn’t do it, and he quickly succumbed to the sleep that forced its way in. 

***

Shots fired.   
Alex.   
Steve.   
Alex’s body.   
Blood.   
Dead. 

“No!” 

Bucky shot up. He was jerked back with a grunt by the breathing tube in his nose. Not knowing what was going on, he flailed about, attempting to get out of this bed and run away. He needed to get out of there. Something was wrong. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Someone put a hand on his chest and keep him still. “Bucky! It’s okay!”

Sweat soaked through his clothes, Bucky could feel it. His heart slammed against his chest and he was quivering all over. Still terrified, he glanced up to see who was with him.

“Steve!” That calmed him a little. “Steve, what’s going on? What’s...where is Alex? Steve, what happened to Alex?”

Seeing Steve’s face fall like he was disappointed and then get very intense made Bucky’s stomach twist. He felt sick and thought he should be crying, but didn’t know why. 

“Bucky, he, uh...Alex…” Steve’s voice was soft and quiet. 

That made Bucky even more leery. Steve never called Alex by his first name. It didn’t help that Steve appeared nervous, too, his eyes wandering from side to side. Did he arrest Alex? Is that what was going on? Bucky could just make out the flashing lights and sirens from somewhere in his mind. 

“Steve, where is Alex?”  
“He’s...gone, Bucky, remember?” He said. “Alex...he died.”

Blood.  
Guns.   
Shots.   
Steve.  
Alex.  
Dead.

It all flashed in Bucky’s mind. Bits and pieces of a puzzle that wasn’t whole running through his head. 

“No…” Bucky grabbed at his head. It hurt. It spun. “No, he’s…”

There had been blood on his hands, he could remember that. And Alex pushing him. Why had he pushed him away? Was he trying to protect him? That could have been it. He tried to get him out of the way to keep him safe. 

Only it wasn’t. Bucky knew it wasn’t. Alex had tried to kill him. That’s what happened. There was no denying it. 

His hands fell by his side. He couldn’t feel them anyway. Everything was numb inside of him. 

“Bucky?” That was his mom talking, not Steve. She was still there, even if she sounded far away. “Bucky, baby, can you hear me?”

Yes. Yeah, he could hear her. But it was like he was floating somewhere outside of his body, unable to make it do anything. Something touched his face. Bucky got his eyes to move just enough to see what it was. Steve was up close, his fingers wiping something away from Bucky’s skin. Tears. That’s what he was doing. Clearing the tears from his face. 

A light shined in his eyes and it startled Bucky so much that he jerked away, swinging at the man in front of him. The little light that he was holding flew across the room. He straightened up and held his palms up. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Bucky,” He soothed. “I’m Dr. Banner, remember? Steve’s friend--Bruce? We met the other day.”

Bucky just stared at him. He had no memory of this man, other than Steve mentioning him once or twice. But there he was. Shaggy brown hair, deep chocolate-colored eyes, soft face and kind eyes. Behind him stood Steve and his mom. 

“No, I…” Bucky rattled his head. “We’ve never met before.”  
Dr. Banner gave him a patient smile. “Yes, we did. A few days ago when you woke up.”  
“Woke up?”  
“That’s right.” Dr. Banner sat down on the edge of the bed. “You passed out. Slept for about sixteen hours.”

Passed out? The other day? That didn’t make any sense. The other day he was with Alex. At Alex’s. Or maybe he was with Steve. Bucky couldn’t be sure. 

“What’s going on? Why am I in here?” Bucky rubbed his eyes, suddenly struck with total exhaustion. “Where is Alex?”

From behind Dr. Banner, his mom sniffled and Steve put his hand on her shoulder. It looked like he was trying to comfort her. 

“Bucky, Alex died. He was shot a few days ago.” Dr. Banner said very slowly and matter-of-factly. “You were there. He almost killed you, and Steve,” He gestured to where Steve was, “he saved you.”  
“No!” Bucky shouted. “No, Alex wouldn’t have done that! He loves me! Alex loves…” He trailed off as an image flashed before his eyes. “Oh...oh Jesus...he...why did he do that?”

The cold, hard truth of what happened sent a freeze through his entire body. He covered his mouth with his hands, fearful he might get sick, and just started crying, even though he was having trouble feeling anything. 

He couldn’t breathe right. All the muscles in his body tightened and it felt like the room was getting smaller around him. Bucky’s heart felt like it was going to burst it was beating so hard. Throat constricting and chest tight, Bucky was sure someone had poisoned him. He shook all over and was so scared, so terrified he thought he might vomit.

“What’s…” He tried to breathe right, but his breaths kept coming faster and faster. “Wrong...with...me…?”  
“You’re having another panic attack, Bucky,” Dr. Banner explained. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Another panic attack? He’d never had _one_ panic attack. Bucky shook his head, ready to argue, but he couldn’t. 

“Bucky, look at me.”

He had some trouble, but Bucky looked up at the doctor.

“I want you to count to ten with me. Do you think you can do that?”

He nodded. “1, 2, 3…”

“No, no,” Dr. Banner interrupted. “With me. Nice and slow. 1...2...3…”

Bucky started to count with him. When they reached five, Dr. Banner took Bucky’s hand and placed it on his chest.

“Keep counting, Bucky.” He instructed. “And feel my breaths. Mimic my breaths.”

It took a while, but eventually, Bucky’s breaths began to even out until he was breathing normally again. Sweat dampened his body and he was dizzy and woozy. When it finally passed, Bucky started to cry.

Dr. Banner stood up and waved his mother over to him. She wrapped her arms around Bucky. It was the first hug from her in over a decade and no matter what had happened, Bucky still felt something good from her scent, from the familiar love and warmth that came from her presence. 

“Mom,” Bucky wept. “I’m so confused. I...I don’t understand…”  
“I know, baby, I know.” She ran her hand up and down his back, not moving away from him at all. “We’ll figure everything out. I promise.”  
______

Steve stepped out into the hall with Bruce. The past few days had been the same thing over and over. Bucky would sleep for hours, wake with almost no memory of what happened, and then usually sleep again after he or Mrs. Barnes would tell him. Those times that he didn’t go right back to sleep, Bucky sometimes just stared at nothing and wouldn’t answer. Steve wasn’t even sure if he was able to hear them. Every now and then he opened his mouth, but no words would come out, like he could no longer speak at all. Other times he would break down in tears or lash out at them, cursing them for lying or making it happen. Once he even blamed everything on Steve. 

He tried not to take it so personally. Steve knew Bucky wasn’t being rational, but it hurt just the same. Bucky was in pain, and, even if it was rare, he sometimes thought it was Steve’s fault. Then there was the opposite of that, when he would completely disregard what he’d been told and just act like nothing happened. There were panic attacks, like the one he just had and even worse. There were the times he ripped the IV out of his arm, breathing tube from his nose, and paced about the room, insistent that something horrible would happen if he sat still. Bucky had even curled up on his side and sucked his thumb when he finally got back into bed. 

“What’s going on, Bruce?”  
Bruce sighed. “He’s dealing with a lot of trauma, Steve. You can’t expect him to just bounce back after all he’s been through.”  
“No, I know that,” He replied. “But it’s been four days and he still doesn’t remember, still denies that it happened.”  
“Steve, the kid’s had over thirteen years to grow _that_ dependent on someone who was psychologically abusing and emotionally manipulating him. And then that man tried to kill him, just to hurt _you_ , the first person to show him real love and affection in all that time. His reality has been shattered, broken to pieces, right in front of him. The world he knew, the one he’d accepted as right and his, was ripped apart.”

Steve ran all his fingers through his hair, hoping to not fall apart. The past few days had been some of the hardest he’d ever dealt with. All he wanted was for Bucky to be safe, to be healthy and free. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this was...a lot more than he expected. Maybe he had been wrong to infiltrate the way he had. Perhaps it would have been better if they had done something different, moved slowly.

“Is this all my fault?” He wondered. “Did I do this to him?”  
“No, Steve,” Bruce assured him. “This isn’t your fault. This is Pierce’s fault. He could have let himself be arrested, he could, I dunno, _not_ have taken Bucky as a child and did what he did to him. He did this. You did everything to save Bucky.” He took Steve by the arm and eased him enough to look back into the room. Bucky was sleeping again, his head gently resting on his mother’s chest and thumb back in his mouth. “You see that?”

Steve nodded, not sure if that was supposed to make him feel better. In there was a grown man, cuddled up against his mother, sucking his thumb while she stroked her fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah,” Steve responded. “I put him in this predicament.”  
“No, this would have happened eventually,” He said. “Whenever he dealt with the abuse that Pierce put him through, whether that came about with his arrest or death. To tell you the truth, and I’m not a professional on mental health, but I think, in the long run, this way is better. With Pierce in jail, who knows what that man would have been able to still do to him.”

It took so much for him not to cry. And then Bruce put his hand on his back and Steve _did_ cry.

“So, is this...normal?” He used the word for lack of better. “Or right?”  
“There’s no right or wrong way to deal with trauma. He’s exhibiting very common signs of acute stress disorder. All the detachment, the muteness, dissociative amnesia, his recurring nightmares, combined with the denial, the regression, the anxiety and anger, the depression, even the hyperactivity, it’s all very typical with ASD. With all he’s been through, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s diagnosed with PTSD in a few weeks.”

Steve wiped the tears from his face. They still built up in his eyes, but they remained unshed for now. 

“Do you think he should see someone? A therapist?”

Bruce nodded like this was something he’d already considered. “I’ve put in a call to Dr. Stephen Strange. He’s the director and head psychiatrist at a place called Refuge. It’s a residential treatment program for trauma survivors and PTSD, as well as depression and anxiety. They even specialize in substance abuse, and...well…”

He didn’t need to go on. Bucky was a recovering addict. Given all that had happened, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if he suddenly fell back on his old habit. 

“This Dr. Strange, he’s a good man?”  
“Yeah, he is. He’s a brilliant man and one of the most renowned doctors in the mental health field. I spoke to him earlier today and he already thinks Bucky can benefit from the program.” 

The look on Bruce’s face was a dead giveaway that there was more that needed to be said. 

“What?”  
“Thing is…” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s a voluntary program. You can’t _force_ him to go. He’s got to go on his own.”

That wasn’t going to be easy. Steve already knew it. But he would do whatever he could to make this as painless as possible for Bucky, and for Mrs. Barnes.

After a few more words with Bruce, and some more reassurances that it wasn’t his fault, Steve stepped back into the room. Mrs. Barnes looked up at him as he approached, tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong with my son?” she asked. “What’s happening to him?”  
“Bruce--er--Dr. Banner said this isn’t all that uncommon.”

Steve went on to explain some of what Bruce had told him. The whole time, Mrs. Barnes just listened and absorbed everything Steve said. No wonder Bucky was so strong and had managed to survive all he had. This woman was like a rock. She didn’t run from her emotions, nor did she let them get the better of her. Here was her son, emotionally torn apart and broken after what had been done to him, and instead of breaking down herself--which, in Steve’s mind, she had every right to--she kept herself stable and secure, learning what she needed to do to help Bucky.

“Oh, that’s gonna be tough,” She remarked after Steve told him about Dr. Strange and the facility Bruce recommended. “It’s gonna take some convincing.”  
“You’re okay with it, then? The idea of him getting treatment there?”  
“Anything that will help my son is good by me.”

Steve grinned. He was pretty sure his mother would have liked Mrs. Barnes. When he heard her stomach growl, they both looked at it. It had already been a few hours since dinner, and neither of them had touched the meal brought in intended for Bucky, even though it went uneaten. 

“Do you want to go get something to eat, Mrs. Barnes?” Steve offered. “I’ll stay with him.”  
“Wendy--please. You saved my son, the least you could do is call me by my first name, Detective.”  
“Then, you have to call me Steve, Wendy.”

She smiled back at him and started to slide off the bed, attempting to lower Bucky back to the pillows. But when she moved, Bucky began to stir. His eyes opened and the panic that gripped him was clear on his face.

“Mommy...no…” He whined reaching out for her.   
She brushed her hand across his brow. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be right back. Steve will stay with you.” 

Bucky’s eyes found Steve next to her and he smiled, a worn out and tired pull on his lips. It was like he’d forgotten all about Steve and then suddenly remembered him. 

“Steve…” He moaned through his grin.

Steve took Wendy’s place--she mouthed that she’d be right back before slipping out the door--and Bucky snuggled against him, popping his thumb back into his mouth. He took it out a few moments later. His entire body suddenly tensed.

“Steve?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Alex...he’s…” There was a hitch in his voice. “He’s not...he didn’t…” Bucky continued to struggle with the words. “He...he’ll be right back, too, right?”

It was at that moment Steve knew he wasn’t as strong as Bucky’s mother. He had asked this one other time, and she had kept her resolve and told him the truth. 

“Yeah, Buck,” he lied. “He’ll be right back.”

The tension in Bucky’s body melted away. He went to suck on his thumb again, but instead wrapped his arm around Steve’s torso. When he started trembling a little, Steve realized he was crying. 

“I wanna go home, Stevie.” He whispered.

Trying to hold back the tears were useless, so Steve just kissed the top of his head and let them fall. Did he mean Pierce’s? His mom’s? Steve’s? Where would home be for him now?

“I know, baby.” He murmured. “We’ll get you there. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be posting a few chapters at a time now, depending on how quickly I can get through editting.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	43. I'm running out of things to come up with here

Over the past few days, Bucky struggled to process being in the hospital. He didn’t always understand what he was doing there. When he did understand, he wished he didn’t. Most of the time, Bucky found himself somewhere in between the two. So he just refused to talk about anything that reminded him of whatever it was that upset him.

Nightmares haunted his dreams. Always the same ones. There would be guns, and shots, and blood, and Alex, and Steve, and Alex dead, and blood--Alex’s blood, Steve’s blood. Bucky would wake up screaming. Those images sometimes flashed in front of his eyes while he was awake as well. There were times that Bucky wasn’t sure which pictures that his mind came up with were real and which were fake. They were always blurry and came to him in different orders, like his brain was mashing them up. He was so tired all the time, and he wanted to sleep, but he was afraid to dream.

There were times Bucky knew Alex was dead. There were times he refused to believe Alex was dead. There were times he knew Alex was coming back any minute. Bucky couldn’t remember things that happened, even though there was something important he needed to know. Whatever it was made him hurt inside, it made him afraid, and whenever someone tried to explain it to him, he panicked. It made his chest hurt, made it hard to breathe and his heart beat so fast he thought he was dying. Nothing he ever said to anyone got through to them. 

People kept coming to see him. At first, Bucky thought they were only there for Steve. They were his friends after all. But sometimes they stopped in even when Steve wasn’t there. It was rare that Steve wasn’t with him, but sometimes he went to talk to doctors or to get something to eat; he’d even gone home to shower and change a few times. Still, they would come. Sometimes in a group, sometimes individually.

Sam would come and easily get a conversation rolling. It was easy to talk to Sam. He would bring up a subject, ask Bucky questions about it, and, when he was up for it, Bucky would answer. He couldn’t always though. There were times when Bucky was too dazed to even listen to anything anyone had to say. During those times, Sam just sat with him in silence.

The first time Natasha came on her own, Bucky had been pacing back and forth in the room despite his mother’s attempts to get him to lay back down. He was fidgeting and talking just to talk, his words making little sense and coming out so quickly they were pretty much incoherent anyway. Natasha had stepped up to him, slow and cautious, and gently put her hand on his shoulder as he moved by her. Bucky’s first response was to defend himself, but when he saw the calm and cool expression on her face, he let her guide him back to the bed. 

When Clint came down for a visit, pushing himself in a wheelchair, Bucky was in the room by himself crying, curled up in the bed with the blankets wrapped tightly around him. Steve had gone home to shower, his mom had gone to get something from the cafeteria, Alex _still_ hadn’t come, and even though Bucky had assured them that he’d be fine, he hadn’t realized the pain being alone would cause. He had burst into tears just minutes after they left and wasn’t able to stop. Clint rolled up to him and made a joke, which was kind of funny-- _did you hear about the cardinal that lost it’s feathers? Now it’s a bishop_ \--but Bucky didn’t have it in him to laugh. So Clint just pat his shoulder and started showing him the sign language he was learning. It was enough of a distraction that eventually Bucky didn’t even remember why he was crying at all. 

So far, Bucky’s favorite visits were from Sharon and Maria, who had come both separately and once together, but always with a new book for him. Sharon had even stayed once to read all of _The Catcher in the Rye_ to him. Bucky slightly recalled talking to her about that book once, but had no idea when that happened. By the time she finished, the room was filled with everyone, even the kind-hearted Dr. Banner.

Bucky liked Dr. Banner, even if the man had things totally backwards. There was no reason for him to keep Bucky cooped up in this hospital. Alex wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t like Bucky being gone for so long. But Dr. Banner always seemed to have a reason to make him stay longer. And Alex never came for him. 

Somewhere deep inside, Bucky wondered if Alex would ever come for him. Because Alex _couldn’t_ come for him for some reason. 

This day was different though. Someone new came in to see Bucky while there were several people with him. Steve sat on the chair right next to his bed, holding his hand, his mom sat on the bed with him. Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Dr. Banner were there, too. They were in a semicircle around the bed, and had been talking around Bucky, because Bucky felt all his words dry up and leave him. He knew everyone was there, heard them even, but nothing seemed to stick with him. Until someone touched him on the chin which seemed to yank Bucky back into his body.

“What?” He murmured, looking around in an attempt to figure out who touched him. 

It had been his mom; her fingers were still gently on his chin. She smiled softly at him, but there were tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Bucky whispered.  
“Bucky, there’s someone here to see you.” She said and pointed to the door.

Bucky looked over there, earning a slight squeeze from Steve’s hand, and saw a tall, broad man standing there, skin olive-toned, and dark, dark brown eyes. He had a goatee and his lips turned up in a pleasant smile. Dr. Banner got up to greet and shake the man’s hand. 

“Thank you for coming,” He said, hand still shaking the other man’s. “It’s good to see you.”  
“You, too, Bruce.” He replied and gestured into the room as though asking permission to enter.

Dr. Banner nodded and waved him in. The man smiled at everyone, saving Bucky for last.

“You must be, James.” He stated.  
“Bucky.” He corrected. “No one calls me James.”

That made his smile grow wider and he nodded in acknowledgement of the correction. 

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Stephen Strange.”  
“Strange?” One side of Bucky’s mouth pulled up. “That’s a weird name.”

That had just popped out of his mouth. Sure he thought it, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

“Bucky.” His mom scolded.  
“No, no, it’s okay.” Dr. Strange didn’t appear insulted. In fact, it looked like he agreed. “It is a different name, and honesty is a good thing.” He stepped up to the bed. “Is it all right if I talk to you for a little while, Bucky?”  
“Uh...okay?”

Dr. Strange thanked him and then sat down in the chair right next to Steve, placing him even closer to Bucky than Steve was. 

Glancing out at everyone around him, Bucky was reminded of something he’d seen on television and in movies. It confused him though, didn’t make sense.

“I’m clean, you know.” He announced. “Seven years. So...is this an intervention?”

Steve’s team sucked in deep breaths, while Steve and his mother looked down. Dr. Banner seemed to have given the reins over to Dr. Strange, who smirked a little. 

“You’re observant, that’s good.” He complimented. “No, Bucky, this isn’t an intervention, not like the one you’re thinking of.”  
Bucky looked around again. “Then what is it?”  
Dr. Strange first observed everyone else. “Maybe it’s best for Bucky and I to speak privately for now.”

Everyone nodded and started to rise from their seats. Panic burst inside Bucky’s belly. He didn’t want to be alone with him, he didn’t know him, so he latched onto his mother and Steve.

“Would you feel better if they stayed with us?” Dr. Strange asked. Bucky nodded. “That’s fine. You two can stay then.”

Steve and his mom nodded and remained in their seats. The others, even Dr. Banner, shuffled out the door, each taking a parting glance over their shoulders. 

“So, Bucky, how are you feeling?” Dr. Strange questioned once they were alone.

Unsure why this man was here, Bucky hesitated before giving any sort of response. Because of his silence, his mother touched his shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod. She wanted him to answer. 

“I dunno.” He said. “I’m...fine.”  
“Bucky, I was wondering if you could talk to me about last week.”

That made him tense up. Bucky looked down at his lap, curling his hands around the edge of the blanket, and shook his head. 

“Okay, that’s fine.” Dr. Strange’s voice was very soothing, very soft. “Do you _remember_ what happened last week?”

The glands in Bucky’s throat swelled up. His tongue was dry and so were his lips. He shook his head again. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He whispered.  
“All right,” He had taken a notepad out and was jotting things down on it. “Bucky, would you lean back for me and close your eyes?” Bucky eyed him strangely, but did as was requested. “Thank you. Now, I’d like to talk about Alex. Is that okay?” Bucky nodded. “Good. Can you picture the last place you were with him? See it. Smell it. Feel the air around you. Hear the noises.”

He could picture that clearly. The bedroom, Alex’s room. They had been in it together. 

“Yes. I see it.”  
“Where are you?”  
“I’m in Alex’s room.”  
“Are you alone or with Alex?”

Bucky wanted to see himself with Alex, but another image started to form instead. He wasn’t sure what it was.

“I’m alone…” Wait...that was wrong. “No. I’m not. There’s someone here. But I can’t see who. It’s dark.”  
“You’re safe right now, Bucky,” Dr. Strange comforted. “Remember that. You’re safe, your loved ones are right here. Now, what’s happening in the room?”  
“They’re going to the bed. To the light. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s going on.” Bucky could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly.   
“Everything is okay, Bucky. I swear. You’re safe right here. Can you keep going?”  
“I’m holding something. A...a gun…” 

Bucky wanted to cry. Why did he have a gun? 

_Shots. Screams. Light. Steve. Blood._

Eyes flying open, Bucky let out a yell and grabbed onto his chest. 

“Oh God!” He gasped, and reached for Steve’s arm. “I shot you! Why…? When did I…?”

_Alex. Gun. Shove. Shots. Alex’s body. Blood. Dead._

“No!” Bucky’s breaths backed up on him. “Stop! I don’t want to do this!”

Vaguely aware of Steve and his mom trying to comfort him, Bucky covered his eyes with his hands. 

“Bucky, this is hard,” Dr. Strange said. “But, I really think it’s a good idea to continue. The memory is still fresh in your mind, you just need to bring it out.”  
“No, no, no.” Bucky cried and clung onto his mother’s arm. “Mommy, make him stop. Please, make him stop.”

She held his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, but when she looked back at him, he knew she wasn’t going to make this end.

“He’s only trying to help you, baby.”

Bucky tore away from her and turned to Steve. He clutched Steve’s hand and held it close to his chest. 

“Steve...Stevie, please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Unlike his mother, Steve was crying. His eyes wandered about the room, like he needed help. But he lowered his head.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” He whispered.  
“Listen to me, Bucky,” Dr. Strange spoke again. “We _don’t_ have to do this. It’s up to you. But if you don’t...it’s going to take longer for you to get better. The more you remember, the more you’ll heal.”  
“I don’t want to remember!” He screamed. “I don’t want to!” 

It was too late though. The memories were coming back to him, steadily streaming through his mind like a river. All of it played out before his eyes and Bucky choked back another scream. 

“He’s dead,” Bucky murmured. “Alex is dead. And...and he was going to kill me.”

The words hurt to say. Now it was real, and it wasn’t going away.

***

There was a long discussion about what happened that night, one that Bucky both wanted to and never wanted to forget. Dr. Strange said a lot of things like how it wasn’t his fault and that it was okay to feel pain and confusion. He kept using words like abused and manipulated, and for some reason, even though he had tried to kill him, Bucky felt some deep seeded need to defend Alex. And he hated it. 

Still, Bucky sat there and listened, feeling everything from hollow, to rage, to misery. He was mostly quiet, just taking in everything Dr. Strange had to say, until he said something that struck him even harder than the acceptance that Alex was dead. 

“You want to send me away?” Bucky glared between Steve and his mother.

A residential treatment center. That’s what Dr. Strange called it. But Bucky knew what they really wanted. They wanted to lock him up and not have to deal with him. 

“No, baby,” His mother soothed. “It’s just for a little while. Just until you get better.”

Lips curled up in anger, Bucky felt his body getting hot.

“Fuck you.” He snapped.

_Fuck you_. That had been the last thing he could remember saying to her. _Fuck you_. And it just came out again.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Mommy. Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.”

Her arms were swathed around him as she rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort. 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

When he tried to sit back up, she released her affectionate hold and let him go. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging a bit at the ends. 

“What’s wrong with me?”  
“That’s what we can do for you at Refuge,” Dr. Strange explained. “We can help you feel better, help you learn how to live on your own again.”  
“But...no.” Bucky shook his head. “I don’t wanna go away. Why...why can’t I go home with you, Mommy?” he quickly looked over to Steve. “Or you, Stevie? Can’t I go with you? I won’t be in the way. I promise not to be bad.”  
“I wish you could, Buck.” He whispered. “But I can’t help you.”

Steve looked so sad, his mom looked sad and determined. Anger started creeping in, mixing with the fear already there. They were going to send him away. They would forget about him. After all, Alex had tried to kill him. He would have. Bucky couldn’t trust anyone, especially if he loved them.

“No.” He refused. “I’m not going.”

Dr. Strange started talking to him again, explaining that they only wanted to help him, wanted what was best for him. That’s what Alex said to him, too. And then he tried to kill him. So Bucky didn’t listen to him. At least, he ignored him as best he could and just kept denying him over and over. 

“No. No you can forget about it.”  
“Bucky, no one is going to force you there.” Dr. Strange assured him. “This is up to you; completely. Just remember that _there_ there’s people who know how to help you, give you what you need to help see you through this.”  
“There’s nothing to help me through.” He growled. “I’m _fine_.”

Even when Steve begged him, tears in his eyes and straining to keep his lip from quiver, Bucky refused. He said no to his mother when she kept saying how much she loved him and needed to see him get healthy again. 

Bucky knew he didn’t need this. He didn’t need to go somewhere just to have people try to tell him he was crazy. The whole thing was ridiculous. 

“Okay, look, we don’t need to discuss this now,” Dr. Strange said. “You know about the option, so we can think things over and talk about it again later.”  
“I don’t need to talk about it at all. The answer is no.” Bucky’s teeth were clenched. “Just tell everyone to come back.”  
“Sure, no problem.” Dr. Strange went to stand up. “Is it okay if I stay?”  
“Do whatever you want.”

He nodded, then left for a moment to get the others. No one said anything while he was gone, so Bucky just glared down at his blankets. Pretty soon, the room was full again, and they were all chatting amongst one another. Bucky didn’t bother paying attention to their conversations, even if they kept trying to included him. The only thing he noticed was Steve’s thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand while he held it, and his mother would randomly stroke her hand up and down his arm. 

“Hey, Bucky?”

That got his attention. It wasn’t Dr. Strange, or Steve, or him mom. Sam called for his attention, and Bucky was so surprised he glanced up at him. He was back in the seat at the left corner of the bed.

“Has Steve told you about Riley?”

Bucky was playing his hands. He recalled Steve telling him once that Sam had lost his best friend when in combat. 

“Was that your friend?”  
Sam nodded. “That’s right. My best friend. We were flying a night mission and Riley’s dumbass got shot right out of the sky. I saw it, saw his jet go down in flames. For a while I couldn’t figure out what I was doing, why I was there. When I got back I...well I had a hard time just being alive while my man was dead. Wasn’t fair. Still isn’t fair.”  
“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “But...what does this…”  
“I wasn’t in a good place.” Sam clarified. “I ended up staying at the Veterans’ Hospital for four months. It was what I needed. No shame in needing some help after going through something shity. Now I council at the VA, and,” He took Natasha’s hand and glimpsed at everyone else around the room, “I have these great people in my life. They can’t replace Riley, and we what we have is different, but just as good.”

Bucky got it, got why he was telling him this story. He folded his arms over his chest and locked his jaw. There was no reason to say anything. 

It was dropped again and their talking resumed for some time until something else grabbed Bucky’s attention. 

Clint stood up from his wheelchair and pulled something out of his pocket. He had it wrapped tightly in his hand, but showed Bucky the tattoo on his wrist before showing it. It said “One Day at a Time”. Then he opened his hand to show Bucky what was there. A pin. A small pin with a triangle enclosed in a circle. 

“My sobriety pin.” Clint stated. “Eleven years this fall. I go to meetings once a week. Couldn’t do it on my own. It’s tough. I know.”

He clapped Bucky’s shoulder and went to sit back down. Bucky knew that Clint was older than the rest of them, but he didn’t realize that those years he had on them could have ever been anything similar to his. 

“I was in a foster home for seven years,” Natasha suddenly said. “They wouldn’t let us laugh.”

His arms loosened up and Bucky’s eyes slid towards her. 

“Why?”  
“Because laughing children are undisciplined children, unruly children, and God demands bad children be punished.” She lowered her voice and went on. “We weren’t allowed to talk any louder than this. And my foster dad…” Natasha cleared her throat. “Bill would keep a rubber hose around his neck, to remind us that he was always the one in charge. The boys were tied down to the bed at night so they wouldn’t touch themselves and the girls…” She made a face like she was amused when she was the furthest from it. “They had us girls stand in front of a mirror everyday and made us say that we were impure and natural sinners for being women. They told us we were being punished for the sins of our past lives and that’s why we didn’t go to heaven and were born as women.”

When she paused, like she both needed and hated that she needed to take a second to compose herself, Steve, Clint and Sam all looked at her. 

“You never told us that.” Clint whispered, taking hold of her hand while her other was still tucked in Sam’s.  
“No, I didn’t,” She just went on looking at Bucky the whole time. “I’ve never told anyone that part, except the therapists I saw. Do you know how long it took me to be comfortable laughing? To not have to worry that someone was going to hurt me?”

That question was directed at Bucky, he knew it, but he didn’t want to answer or find out the answer. She gave it to him anyway. Natasha was clearly the type of person who would do what she thought needed to be done.

“Took me three years.” She told him. “I get it. I know what it’s like to be betrayed and hurt by the ones you should be able to trust most. It’s not something you just get over and for the longest time I thought I could--thought I didn’t need anyone to help. I was wrong and that cost me even more time hurting.” Natasha squared her shoulders. “Steve loves you. And if Steve loves you, it must mean you’re pretty damn special. I’d hate to see someone that special lose even more time because of what some piece of shit put them through.”  
“Don’t call Alex that.” Bucky muttered. 

No one responded to that. 

His head was lowered and he fiddled with his fingers. Bucky had no idea that there was so much suffering in one room. Sam saw his best friend die, Clint was a recovering addict, Natasha had been abused, Steve lost his mother and spent the first half of his life sick. All of them had pulled through, survived. Even before he had met them all, because of Steve and how much they meant to him, Bucky just assumed they were all some of the strongest people in the world. Which, they still were. But they had their demon, demons which had tried to destroy them. 

None of that knowledge made Bucky’s anger lessen. Didn’t they get it? He wasn’t like them. They were strong, he was weak. They were survivors, he...well he needed Alex. Alex had saved him. Alex had taken care of him. Alex was gone.

“I don’t wanna go.” He mumbled. “But...fine.”

The last part had come out so quietly it must have been missed by their ears. Then, it probably sank in. By his mom first, since Bucky could hear the quick intake of her breath. She put her hand on his arm. 

“You mean, you’ll go?” She questioned, an hopeful air surrounding her.   
He shrugged. “I guess. If you want.”  
“Oh, Bucky!” Steve exclaimed and tossed his arms around him. The force of it caused Bucky to jostle about, but he didn’t return to affection. “Thank you. You’ll see, I promise, they’re gonna help you. I swear.”  
“I think you’re making a wise choice, Bucky.” Dr. Strange praised. “It’s not an easy choice to make, so you should be proud of yourself.”

Bucky just shrugged again. He didn’t want to say anything to any of them. Anger pumped through him fast and hard, and he was too wrapped up in it to acknowledge it was just masking his fear. Fear that told him this was it. When they dropped him off at this place, Bucky would never see Steve again.   
He was going to disappear, just like Alex, and take all that was good with him.


	44. Chapter 44

The car felt so much smaller than it actually was. Steve was just as silent as Bucky as he drove him to this Refuge place, a little over an hour outside the city. It could have been a nice ride under different circumstance. The scenery was beautiful. Lovely bright green trees, quaint farm houses on large pieces of property, even the tips of the nearest mountain range was in view. But instead of admiring any of it, Steve just looked out the windows, only paying attention because he needed to drive, and Bucky simply stared like he didn’t care to see anything at all. Arms tight against his chest, he hadn’t said one word to Steve that day.

In fact, Bucky hadn’t said much of anything to him since yesterday afternoon when he agreed to go to the treatment center. He talked to his mom a bit, sometimes getting very chatty when the topic didn’t make him uncomfortable. No matter how hard Steve tried to get Bucky to talk to him about something, about anything, he just wouldn’t. Other than a few one word answers, he had barely spoken to him at all. Even affection seemed to be off limits, or unrequited anyway. Any hug Steve gave him, any kiss he tried to give him, pats on the shoulder, attempts to take Wendy’s place holding him, were met with nothing or avoidance. It was like Bucky was trying to phase him out. 

As if Steve didn’t have enough gratitude for his team, he was now forever in their debt. The way they had been there for Bucky, going only on the faith that Steve’s love for him made him worth their time and affection, and shared some of their most intimate stories with him was so much more than he could ever hope for. If not for them, Steve wasn’t sure if they’d be able to convince him to go. As it was, Bucky still didn’t want to go. He was angry with them, at least with him, that much Steve could tell. But he was going anyway, and it was Steve’s hope--as well as the hopes of Wendy and Dr. Strange and Bruce and everyone--that being there would help him.

After a long discussion with Wendy and Dr. Strange, it had been decided that Steve would be designated as Bucky’s caregiver. He had argued against it, sure that Wendy should be the one to do it. She insisted it was best for him.

“You know Bucky most intimately now.” She told him. “You know this Bucky better than I do. He needs you more than he needs me.” 

When she noticed the tears in Steve’s eyes, she took hold of his face and coaxed him into a hug where she let him gently rest his head on her shoulder. 

“He needs his mom.” He sniffed, knowing all too well the feeling of needing his mom.   
She nodded. “Yes. And I’ll be there, every step of the way. But right now, he needs you more. I need you to be strong for him. Can you be strong for my son, Steve?”

Steve picked his head up, wiping the moisture away from his eyes. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied.   
“Thank you, Steve.”

Once it was settled, Steve had made the necessary arrangements with Dr. Strange while Wendy talked to Bruce about Bucky’s smooth discharge. As they had been, the two of them stayed with Bucky overnight one last time. In the morning, Sam and Natasha had stopped by with a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries, blankets and linens for Bucky. They all met the requirements for Refuge and none of it had come from Pierce’s home. Sharon and Maria had taken the liberty of buying him new things. “A new start,” they said, “fresh from all of that.” Steve didn’t think it would make a difference to Bucky, didn’t think he’d even notice since they had taken great care to purchase clothes that seemed to be his preferred style. Steve even thought some of them were duplicates of what was already in Bucky’s wardrobe. 

But when Bucky pulled a shirt out of the suitcase, he held it up for a moment and then brought it to his nose to give it a sniff. He jerked away from it like it had startled him. Then he started to cry. The smell. Steve hadn’t considered that. Not that they were trying to trick him. They just wanted to make things easy for him. But seeing the similar clothing and finding that it didn’t have the same scent, the familiar and normal smell he’d grown used to for thirteen years must have triggered something in him. Steve tried to offer him comfort, but Bucky refused to accept it. He just clutched the garments in his hands and went to change. 

There was a tearful goodbye between Bucky and his mother a few hours later. Bucky had clung onto her when she leaned down to hug him. He had been in a wheelchair as per Bruce’s insistence. 

“You’re going to be okay, Bucky.” She murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”  
“I don’t want to go.” He whined. “Please, don’t make me go.”  
“Sweetie, they’re going to help you. Please go. Please. For me?”

His face crumpled when she said that and he lowered his head while nodding. It appeared that he would be willing to do anything for her. 

“Okay, Mommy.” Then he peered back up at her, tears in his eyes. “But they said I can’t see you for a month.”

She trailed her fingers across his brow, a sad smile growing on her face. Wendy leaned in to kiss the spot she had touched. 

“And I’ll be there the first day I can.” She promised. “I’ll be there with a whole tray of cinnamon buns just for you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted a bit, his eyes going a little wide. The idea of that must have excited him. 

“You...you’ll still make them for me?”

Her eyes glazed over with a few tears when he asked that. She did the same thing with her hand again, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from his face.

“Of course, Bucky. You don’t think I’d go to the store for them, do you?”  
“I love your cinnamon buns.” He whispered.   
“You’ll have a whole tray of them soon.”

Small, almost sad, grin on his face, Bucky chewed on his lip before rising out of the wheelchair and putting his arms around her. 

“Promise you’ll come, Mommy.” He murmured. “Please. You don’t have to make me cinnamon buns. I just want you.”

She turned her head to kiss his cheek, holding on to the other side of his face. 

“I promise.”

When Bucky pulled away from her, there were tears on his face. He quickly wiped them away. Bruce stepped up to shake his hand, telling him that Dr. Strange would be waiting for him. Bucky nodded, and Bruce gestured to Steve.

The second Steve stepped up to him, Bucky’s entire demeanor changed. He went from somewhat open and weepy to closed off and angry. That made Steve’s heart fall. Out of everyone, he was the only one that Bucky tensed and clammed up on. Still, Wendy had asked him to be strong for Bucky, so Steve gave him a hopeful smile. 

“Ready, buddy?” He asked.   
Bucky shrugged. “I guess.”

He gave his mother one last hug before moving towards the car, parked right in front by the curb. Steve had attempted to talk a little when he first started driving, but given Bucky’s reluctance to speak, he stopped even trying. 

The first time Bucky even gave any indication that he was paying attention at all, was when he stiffened at the sight of the first sign for Refuge. Bucky stiffened, his breathing picking up, and he wrapped his arms around himself instead of having them pinned across his chest. 

“It’s gonna be all right, Buck.” Steve comforted.

Bucky didn’t reply.

Ten minutes later, Steve turned down a long driveway that took them to a one floored, brick building, that looked more like a long ranch. That’s where Steve was told Dr. Strange’s office was, so he pulled over and parked in one of the empty spaces. He glanced over at Bucky to see he was ringing his hands, a crease between his eyebrows. Without thinking, Steve reached over to place his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He tensed at the touch and moved away. Sighing, Steve got out of the car and waited a few moments in front of it for Bucky to follow. When he didn’t come out, Steve started to move for the passenger side, but he clearly wasn’t wanted. Bucky opened the door himself, got out, and started walking towards the door. 

“Bucky…” Steve called out softly.

It was enough to get Bucky to pause, but he didn’t turn around. Since he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say to him, Steve just let out a sigh and then headed for the door with him. 

***

“This is nice.” Steve commented when they were standing in the place that would be Bucky’s home for as long as Dr. Strange thought it necessary.

They had gone through the intake process with Dr. Strange, going over the policies that Bucky was agreeing to. Things like their dress code, no electronics, up at 7am everyday, making his bed, chores, agreeing to complete all reading and writing assignments, acknowledging that he may be searched at any time, and more. Dr. Strange went over what he could expect everyday and what sort of behaviors wouldn’t be tolerated. The whole thing took about an hour and a half--including time for Bucky to read over and sign papers, one of which agreed that Steve was the one who they should contact for him and that information could be shared with. 

Once they were done, Dr. Strange show them around a bit. The campus was huge, with so much outdoor space and lots of activities to do out there, and completely beautiful. There was tree lined paths, hiking trails, horseback riding, and nature all around. Under a more normal circumstance, Steve was sure Bucky would be grumbling and whining about the fact that there was more to do outside than inside. But he just remained quiet the whole time. When they were through, Dr. Strange took to them to the cabin that Bucky would be staying in. 

There was a screened in porch in front of it, and a main room to convene in as soon as they walked in. No one was there at the moment, but Bucky would be sharing the place with three other people, two to a bedroom. The room he was assigned was small, shared with another person, and nothing like Bucky was probably used to. Still, it had wooden floors, a nice twin-sized captain’s bed, a nightstand next to it, and a shared dresser. 

“Well, Detective Rogers,” Dr. Strange said. “I think we can take it from here.”

Stomach clenched and heart twisted, Steve nodded. Bucky was standing in the middle of the room, his back to Steve and hadn’t turned around, not even when Steve was right behind him. 

“Bucky?” Steve murmured. “Can…can you turn…” But he just stopped there and instead kissed the back of his head. “I love you.”

Unable to stand the thought of standing there and hearing nothing but silence from him, Steve spun around and hurried out. He hated this. Hated leaving Bucky here, hated that he was so angry he wouldn’t speak to him, hated Pierce, hated himself.

“Steve!”

He was about twenty yards away from the cabin when he heard Bucky’s shout. Steve turned around just in time to see him bolting out the screen-door and down the steps. Bucky raced towards him, and Steve was so overwhelmed he just stood there. When Bucky got to him, he flung his arms around Steve’s neck and pulled himself in so close their bodies rocked for a moment. Steve wrapped him up in a strong, affectionate embrace, Bucky’s face buried in his shoulder.

“Please, Steve,” Bucky cried. “Please don’t leave me here and forget about me.”

Though he had promised Wendy that he would be strong for her son, Steve wasn’t strong enough not to cry along with him when he heard that. 

“Oh, Bucky, is that what you think I’m gonna do? Is that why you’re so mad at me?” He felt Bucky’s head nod in response. “I could never forget you.” Steve moved away, only enough that he could put his hands on Bucky’s cheeks. Bucky placed his own hands over Steve’s. “I love you, Bucky. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.” Steve kissed him. “I need you.” He kissed him again. “I don’t ever want to be without you.” Kiss. “I’m not going to forget you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you so much.”

Bucky kissed him back, tears and all, and shook his head.

“Alex said he loved me, too.” He whispered.  
“I’m not Alexander Pierce.” Steve said. “I’m Steve Rogers. I’m your Stevie. _Your_ Stevie.” That made Bucky cry even harder, but Steve could tell there was still so much fear and doubt. “You don’t believe me.”  
He bit down on his lip. “No.”

Steve nodded and sucked in a deep breath, pulling his tears under control. 

“That’s okay,” He told him. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

The screen door swung open again. At the sound of it, Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see what Steve already saw. Dr. Strange was approaching. When Bucky snapped his gaze back to Steve, he looked panicked, and he locked his arms around him again. 

“I love you, Steve.” He declared. “I love you.”  
Steve kissed the side of his head. “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky held onto him tighter when Dr. Strange was next to them. Giving him one last kiss, Steve slowly undid their embrace.

“Are you ready, Bucky?” Dr. Strange asked.

After a couple of gasps and a few sniffles, Bucky finally glanced up at Dr. Strange and nodded. 

“Yeah.” He squeaked. “I’m ready.” And because this was Bucky, and he used humor and snark to mask what he really felt, he gave him an arrogant smirk. “I’m all yours, Doc. Let the healing begin.”  
Dr. Strange chuckled. “Nah. I don’t think you’re _all_ mine. I’d have to fight off a few people who love you for that.”  
“Damn straight.” Steve said, and felt more relieved and hopeful than he had in days when Bucky looked up at him and smiled. 

***

Steve had thrown himself back into work the day after he dropped Bucky off at Refuge. Of course, Sam saw right through him and took him out for drinks that night. After all that he’d done for him, Steve wasn’t going to deny him anything, even if that meant caving and just finally talking to him about everything he was feeling. A few drinks in and Steve didn’t need any prodding anyway. He went on and on and on, telling Sam about the fears he had, the anger running through him, the worries for Bucky, the love for Bucky, how great Bucky was, how unfair this was for Bucky, how delicious Bucky tasted, how fantastic Bucky felt, how beautiful Bucky was...Bucky, Bucky, Bucky…

When Sam interrupted him with a laugh, Steve blushed and realized that he had been rambling for nearly an hour--all about Bucky.

“Shit, Sam,” He mumbled through an awkward chuckle. “I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be!” Sam laughed. “I think you’re cute. Steve Rogers going all ga-ga for someone. Nice to see that you _are_ human like the rest of us.” He winked. “At least in that regard.”

Steve was too drunk to understand the implications and weight of Sam’s words. If he hadn’t had so much to drink, he might have told Sam that he thought Sam was a better man than him, and that Natasha valued love more than him, and that Clint appreciated the little things more than he ever could, and that Sharon was way tougher than him and that Maria could probably kick his ass. Instead of saying any of that, Steve smothered his face with his hands and laughed. 

“I’m so sorry I dragged you guys into my mess.” He drank a little more. “I just…” Steve groaned and dropped his head onto the bar. “Fuck, Sam, I love him so much.”

Sam looked a bit taken back at Steve’s choice of vulgarity. Not that Steve never swore, it was usually prompted though. He pat his shoulder and lowered his head so he was clearly in Steve’s view. Steve let his eyes drift up.

“I think you should talk to someone.” Sam suggested. 

Steve turned his head so that his brow pressed flat against the bar.

“M’talking to you.” He grumbled.   
“You know what I mean, Steve. And before you go on getting defensive, I’m gonna ask you to not be a hypocrite.”

Peeking over at him, Steve’s eyebrows went up. Without saying a word, Sam began to answer his unspoken question.

“You knew Bucky needed help, made no hesitation trying to convince him. Now you’re gonna back out of it? For what? Pride? Not a good enough reason.”

Steve picked himself back up and heaved a sigh, his cheeks puffing with air and lips twisting. 

“I got the name of someone from Dr. Strange.” He admitted. “I’ll call her this week. Make an appointment.”

He went on to assure Sam that he had all the details on the Refuge’s family weeks, where he could go and learn how to help both himself and Bucky together. 

After another few drinks, some nonsensical conversation that Steve tried to have with Sam, and a very poor attempt at dancing with some of the ladies there, Sam steered him out the door and back to the car.

“Come on, pal. I think it’s time I got you home.” He chuckled. “Sleep it off.”

Two days later--only because he was so hungover the following morning--Steve made good on his promise and made a call to Dr. Danvers, who quickly worked him into her schedule. 

In the month that followed, Steve made, and went, to two weekly appointments with Dr. Danvers. When Steve first started going, he was reluctant and apprehensive about opening up. He never wanted to burden anyone with his problems and had a near lifetime of experience holding things in. Of course, once things started weighing him down, he’d realize that _he_ was becoming the burden, and would then sit down and have a talk with someone, usually Sam or Sharon. But after his fifth session with Dr. Danvers, Steve started to feel more comfortable with opening up, and even felt a little better when he left. 

Talking with her made it even easier for Steve to meet with Wendy, which he did at least once a week. They had dinner together, which Bucky’s mother insist he let her make for him, where they’d talk about this and that, sometimes about Steve, sometimes about Bucky when he was younger, but mostly they discussed the updates Steve got on Bucky. 

Dr. Strange called him usually twice a week to tell him what was going on with Bucky. It was never anything that should be kept confidential, but rather how he was progressing, his behavior and any other details he thought Steve should know. 

The first week seemed to be the toughest for Bucky. Dr. Strange informed Steve that he had zoned out again, and would sleep whenever he was allowed to. He only ate because he was told to, only showered for the same reason, and hadn’t been very cooperative in any therapy session--private or group. 

During the second week, Bucky had been prescribed two medications--one for depression, one for anxiety. He had spent a little more time awake, even gone for a few walks down one of the trails for a little while. There wasn’t much improvement in therapy, but he did start one of the assignments he’d been given. 

By the third, Steve learned that Bucky had started opening up more during their private sessions. He was still quiet during group sessions, only speaking when he was asked a direct question. Still, despite his silence around other people--Dr. Strange explained the re-socializing him would take a bit of time--Bucky stayed awake more often, and was starting to take care of himself better. 

In the middle of the fourth week--the one Steve was most anxious to get to--Dr. Strange informed him that while Bucky continued to go through the routine of things, even still improved in therapy, he had regressed a bit. It wasn’t that surprising, that’s what Dr. Strange said. Apparently it was pretty normal, and with the date of Bucky’s first allowance of visitors rapidly approaching, it was Dr. Strange’s thoughts that he was apprehensive about no one showing up. Trust was something that would take some time for Bucky to achieve. It was also decided, given the amount of stress he was under and his history with addiction, that he should be in their substance abuse treatment program as well. 

The day before Steve was meant to go see him, he had gone for a session with Dr. Danvers. Until the day was coming up on him, he hadn’t realized how nervous he was. Talking with Dr. Danvers, he was able to voice his worries and fears--what if Bucky reacted poorly to him, what if he shut down again, what if…--and felt calmer and a little more relaxed. She reminded him that in a few weeks time he’d be attending their Family Week, so he could learn how to deal with the trauma _with_ Bucky. Together they’d learn better ways to share their thoughts and feelings with each other, new ways to help each other while helping themselves. They’d learn how to play and relax together again. Steve would listen; Steve would learn. He wouldn’t let Bucky down. 

On the day itself, Steve was a mix of nerves and excitement. Despite his anxieties though, he was so impatient to get there and just see Bucky, _hear_ his voice again, he almost left for the Refuge at dawn. It would have been a pointless drive, since visitations didn’t start until nine in the morning and he wasn’t going to get there until noon anyway. He wanted Wendy to have the chance to see Bucky first, to spend time with him alone. With his free time, Steve showered and changed, and then changed again, and ate a nice hearty breakfast, and then changed again. He couldn't decide on what to wear. Wanting to look nice for Bucky, he called Sharon to ask her opinion.

“Steve, you know you’re not going on a date, right?” She reminded him. “I don’t think he’s going to care what you have on. I think he’ll just be happy that you’re there.”

She was right. He knew that. But that didn’t stop the burning desire to make a good impression.

“But I wanna look _good_ for him,” He whined, earning a laugh over the other end of the phone. “I mean...what if he…”  
“Are you really worried that he’s going to meet someone there?”  
“Someone with similar life experience?” Steve pointed out. “Sharon, you don’t know the guy. Not like I do.”  
“So, you think he’ll cheat on you?”  
“Cheat on me?” For a moment, Steve wondered if that was even possible. It’s not like they’ve declared themselves a couple, so they weren’t. How could Bucky _cheat_ on him if they didn’t decide on any sort of commitment? “We’re not...I mean...we didn’t decide...we never talked about a relationship. Not really…”  
“Steve…”  
“And my _God_ , Sharon, guy’s the most God damn charming son of a bitch.” A breath caught in Steve’s throat. “Sweet as sugar and beautiful as a sunrise…”  
“Steve?”  
“Smart and funny, and can move like you can’t believe. No telling if he’ll meet some other guy, or a smart and pretty woman…”  
“Steve!”

It suddenly occurred to Steve that she had been trying to get his attention and he’d gone on a long, pointless ramble. 

“What?”  
“Wear that grey shirt, the one that fits snug around your chest,” She advised. “And those pair of jeans you wore to the picnic. Black shoes.”

Steve was silent for a moment as his mind quickly tried to figure out where all those pieces of clothing were. Then he smirked.

“Thanks, Sharon.” He sighed with a slight shake of his head.   
“Feel better?”  
He chuckled. “Yeah.”  
“Good. You’ll give him our well wishes, yeah?”  
“I will. Thanks alot, Sharon.”

By the time he was finished with his mini breakdown over what to wear, Steve found himself almost running late. He changed into Sharon’s suggested outfit, made sure his hair was neat--giving up with his fingers and using his comb--and headed out, grabbing the small package on the table. 

The drive felt twice as long this time, but he finally got there and needed a few minutes to steady himself. Because of the tour he’d taken with Dr. Strange, Steve already knew where to go--he’d practically memorized the place. First signing in at the office, his stomach was in knots as he pinned his ‘visitor’ badge on and was then taken to the visiting room--a sort of rec room from the looks of it, with long tables, couches, a pool, foosball, and air-hockey table, and a television. 

There were several people in there, patients and their guests, as well as a few staff members to oversee everything. Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning the area until they landed on where Bucky sat at one of the tables with his mother, a plate half-full of cinnamon buns between them.

Bucky was seated facing the door, but was deep enough into the room that he didn’t notice him right away. That gave Steve the chance to just watch him for a little bit. It appeared that it wasn’t uncomfortable or difficult to talk to his mother. Wendy sat there and listened to what he had to say and would then respond like not a day had gone by. Bucky looked a little different, the same, but different. There was something about him being in just a t-shirt and jeans that let Steve recognize the glimpses he got of him relaxed and comfortable. Yet he wasn’t entirely that person. His face was pale and careworn, like he was just getting over an illness, and he was slouched a bit in the chair. It only hit Steve then that Bucky had almost always sat up very straight when sitting in a chair like that. He wondered if that was courtesy of Pierce’s desires. If it was, perhaps Bucky’s posture--or lack thereof--was a good sign. There was just something lacking about him though. Like when Pierce died, something in him died as well. Steve hoped that ‘died’ wasn’t correct. Maybe it was just misplaced, buried under grief and loss and several other emotions. 

Smiling at something his mother said, Bucky’s eyes happened to drift about the room for a moment, passing over Steve and then returning back to Wendy. Then his eyes went wide and his gaze whipped back to the door, where Steve waved his fingers at him. The shocked look on his face shifted to sheer delight and Bucky’s mouth stretched into a huge smile. 

“Steve!” He exclaimed, loud enough that it visibly disrupted a few other people there. “You’re here! You came!”  
“Bucky,” One of the staff said, holding her finger to her lips. “Too loud.”  
“M’sorry,” Bucky replied softly, the remorse on his face quickly shifting back to excitement. He pointed to the door. “But look! Steve came to see me!”

The woman smiled, her head shaking a bit with a laugh, and then nodded in Steve’s direction in a pleasant greeting. 

Coming into the room, Steve’s grin got wider and wider the closer he got to Bucky. All his nerves vanished, only to be replaced by what he could only describe as giddiness. 

“I told you I’d be here.” He reminded Bucky. “I don’t lie.”  
“You did once.” Bucky said and then folded his lips in as though he immediately regretted. it. Steve’s insides spasmed, but before he could say anything, Bucky did instead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” He looked frustrated. “Dr. Strange said I’ve been blurting things.” Bucky glanced up at him. “You’re not gonna leave now, are you?”

Steve smiled, pushing aside the guilt and shame he felt for ever lying to Bucky the way he had--even if it was for a good reason. 

“Of course not. I came all this way. You didn’t think you could just shoo me away, did ya?”

When Steve reached out and put his hand on Bucky’s arm, Bucky’s wide grin returned. Steve went to pull out the chair on the other side of Bucky when Wendy stood up. 

“No, no, Steve,” She stated. “You take this one. I’ll get going so you two can have some alone time.”  
“Oh, Wendy, you don’t…”

But she held her hand out to stop him. 

“You deserve some time alone with him.” Wendy slipped her fingers under Bucky’s chin. “And Bucky knows I’m coming back next week _and_ he can call me whenever he wants to now.”

Bucky smiled at her words and stood up, throwing his arms out to ask for a hug. She stepped into the embrace and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for coming, Mom.”  
“I’ll be here whenever I’m allowed.”   
That pulled his lips up again, his eyes closing softly. “I love you, Mommy.”  
“I love you, too, honey.” Wendy kissed his cheek before moving to leave again. “I’ll talk to you later, right?”  
“Eight o’clock. One hour before curfew.”

After another smile for Bucky and a few words of farewell to Steve, Wendy left, and it was just the two of them. Bucky looked over Steve.

“You look really nice.” He complimented.

Steve needed to remember to thank Sharon again.

“Thanks, Bucky. So do you.”  
“No.” He shook his head. “I look like I’ve been here for a month. Not good for fashion statements.” Before Steve could respond to that, he asked, “Wanna sit on the couch?”   
“Sure.” Steve agreed, following Bucky to the empty piece of furniture. 

Once they were seated, Bucky shimmed away a little, putting more distance between the two of them. Looked as though the initial excitement of seeing him was wearing off, gradually turning into awkwardness. Probably because of the question Bucky was sure Steve would ask. Which, incidentally, was the first question out of Steve’s mouth. 

“So, how’re you feeling?”

Bucky looked down at his hands, in his lap and fingers laced, and sighed. His lips twisted from left to right and then back again. 

“All right, I guess.”  
“You like it here?”  
He shrugged. “S’okay.” Bucky glimpsed over at him from the corner of his eye. “I...I miss you.”

Half of Steve’s mouth turned up into a sad sort of grin. 

“I miss you too, baby.”

That response must have given Bucky a bit more courage, and he looked up at Steve. Steve’s honesty and affection was then rewarded.

“I’m angry a lot.” Bucky confessed, eyes sad and mouth turned down. “And I’m sad, really sad. I have nightmares every night, but I think the medicines help a little.” He glanced away again, and Steve thought he looked ashamed. “I loved him. Love him.” Bucky rattled his head. “I don’t know. I just really thought he loved me, Steve. And I feel so stupid.”

A hard lump formed in Steve’s throat while listening to him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if anything that came out would be wrong or right, or if there was a wrong or right response at all. 

“I wish I could say something that would make it all better.” Steve settled for. “But...I know that I love you. You might not believe me right now, and I get that, but I want you to know how much I mean it. I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky didn’t reply directly to that statement. He brushed his fingers through his hair and pressed his lips together, almost like he was going to smile but then decided against it. 

“Thing is…” He sucked in a deep breath as though he needed to prepare himself for something. “The things you said to me? The stuff Al--the stuff he wanted you to say?” Steve nodded, hoping his face wasn’t as pale as it felt. “That stuff, I think it hurt more than what he did, I think, sometimes.” Bucky made a muffled grunting noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t know. But...none of that stuff you said...it wasn’t...true, right?”  
“No, absolutely not.” Steve said. “None of that was true, Bucky. He told me he would kill you if I didn’t say it. That’s the only reason I was able to lie. I needed to keep you safe.”

A look of relief spread across Bucky’s face as though he had been nervous about that. He nodded, biting down on his lip a bit. 

“Steve, guess what?” He asked, perking up enough that there was an excited glow about him.   
That made Steve smile. “What?”  
“You know, when I get to home...or, wherever, when I’m done here, they’re gonna help me go back to school! I can get my diploma, Steve, maybe even go to college.”

The excitement that came off of Bucky made Steve chuckle. Just moments ago he was scared and unsure. Now he was pleasantly eager to talk about this.

“Bucky, that’s great!” He beamed.   
“Yeah…” Bucky’s mood shifted again. Dr. Strange had warned Steve about this, that he could go from one emotion to another at the drop of a hat. “Steve, will you...stay with me? Even though I’m…” It looked like he was searching for the right word to use, “broken?”  
“Bucky, I…” Steve sighed and, that clearly made Bucky nervous. He had tensed up and moved his gaze away. “I have something for you.”

Steve gave him the parcel he had put on the other side of him. It was wrapped in brown paper and as Bucky tore it off, he looked neither happy nor sad. Bucky creased his brow when he pulled the black covered book out.

“Open it.” Steve encouraged. 

Doing that, Bucky looked at the first page. On it was a drawing of Sam, Natasha and Clint. Bucky moved onto the next one to see one of Steve and Sharon. He continued flipping through it, eyes scanning over more sketches of them, others including Maria and Nick Fury. There were some of Steve’s mom, though Bucky wouldn’t recognize her, and some of the city skyline, the inside of the diner, lakes and mountains, and then he stopped on the page Steve was waiting for him to get to. 

“This is…” Bucky hesitated. “This is me.”  
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, yes, it is. Keep going.”

The next page was him, too, then Clint in the hospital, then another of Bucky--this time of him sleeping--then one of him looking out at the ocean from the side of the boardwalk, one of him bowling, one of him swimming. They were spersed with other sketches--the team, sunsets, sunrises, but half of the sketchbook had ended up with pictures of Bucky.

“It’s weird, kinda creepy, I know,” Steve admitted, a blush filling his face. “I didn’t mean for it to be.”

Only Bucky didn’t look uncomfortable by it at all. In fact, he looked more intrigued, maybe even a little confused, than anything else. 

“Why?” Bucky asked. “Why do you draw me so much?”  
“Well, I love you, Bucky. You’re on my mind a lot. And you’re beautiful.”  
“Yeah, there’s that.”

That was the first time in weeks, _weeks_ that Bucky sounded like Bucky. The playful arrogance that Steve knew was in his voice, that cocky smirk pulling his lips up. 

“Yeah, yeah, you know you’re beautiful.” Steve said. “Point is, I’m with you till ya till the end of the line, Bucky.”

The arrogance had left Bucky’s smile. Though the expression remained, it was now soft and honored. 

“What if I never chase you away?”  
“Then I guess we’re stuck together forever.”

Bucky sucked in a ragged breath, as though the thought of that not only pleased him, but frightened him as well. 

“Can I...Steve, can I sit closer to you?”  
“Of course, Bucky. You can sit as close as you want.”

With that approval, Bucky slid over to him, so close that Steve had to put his arms around him. Not that Steve cared. He had wanted that the entire time. Bucky snuggled up against him. The embrace was different than what Steve was used to from him, with his body tense, rigid even, as though he was nervous about being held again yet still craved the intimacy. 

“Dr. Strange says I’m really sick.” He murmured into Steve’s side. “Well, he doesn’t say sick, but I know that’s what he means. But I’m...I’m gonna get better, Steve. I don’t wanna feel like this. I don’t want to feel so fucking helpless and useless and scared and lonely. I’m gonna get better for you, Steve. I promise.”  
“No, Bucky,” Steve shifted their positions so that they could look at one another comfortably. “I don’t want you to get better for _me_. I want you to get better for _you_.”  
“Would you settle for both?”

Steve smiled at him and finally kissed him. It had been so hard not to, but he wasn’t sure if it was okay, not until that moment. Their lips locked and Steve could feel the passion between them, while different now, was still there. Bucky even trembled a bit.

“I love you, Stevie.” He murmured. “I’m gonna work hard. I’m gonna get through this, just like Dr. Strange says I can.”

And Steve truly believed him.


	45. Residential Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be dealing with snippets of Bucky's recovery. I feel it wouldn't do the story or the character the right justice by just skipping to the end.

**Month Two**

Don’t think about it  
Don’t talk about it.   
Ignore it.  
It will go away.  
It will.  
It won’t.  
It doesn’t.

“You can say his name, Bucky. It won’t make him reappear.”

Dr. Strange sat at the desk across from him, always with that patient, open expression. Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t wanna.” He murmured. “It makes me feel stupid.”  
“Why does it make you feel stupid?”  
“Because…” He shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. Because I gave him so much when I shouldn’t have. I let him do that to me.”  
“Come on, Bucky, we’ve been over this. Whose fault is it?”

When Bucky didn’t answer, Dr. Strange put his pen down and just waited. Bucky hated when they went over this. No matter how often he fell back into believing, into _knowing_ , it was his own fault that he was taken advantage of by someone he’d grown to trust and love, Dr. Strange somehow convinced him otherwise. 

He didn’t need to answer. Bucky could just sit there with him in silence for the rest of the session. It wouldn’t be the first time. Bucky had gone whole sessions in nothing but pure silence. But he hadn’t done it in awhile, at least a dozen sessions ago, and there was still half of this one left.

“Can I go call Steve?” He asked instead of replying to the question.  
“Sure, when we’re done here.”

More silence stretched between them. Bucky’s insides felt too big for his body. He stood up and walked over to the shelves on the wall, selecting a pack of cards. Sometimes he felt better to keep his hands busy. Sitting back down, he took to shuffling them. Dr. Strange didn’t pressure him, never did. 

“I believed him.” He muttered. “I believed everything he said to me. Why?”  
“Because you were a child,” He told him. “And he was a very powerful and influential man who made you feel loved and cherished. After Hank…”

He paused when Bucky glanced up at him. Though they’d discussed in great detail what Hank had done to him, Dr. Strange didn’t usually just bring him up like that, especially now that he was trying to move on to other things.

“Does that bother you, Bucky? Me saying Hank’s name, too?”  
“Not so much anymore. I guess I was just surprised is all.”

That much was true. Hank was a monster, plain and simple. He preyed on those he could and avoided those he couldn’t. Once his mother was rid of him, he’d never been back, not at all. Bucky didn’t need to worry about him. All he needed to do was accept what he’d done to him. 

“ _That_ wasn’t my fault.” Bucky said. “What Hank--what he did to me. I hate him for it.”  
“And you’re angry about that.”  
“Yes.”  
“And is it okay to be angry?”

They’d been over this before, and Bucky was, well, okay with how he felt about the situation now. 

“Yeah, it’s okay for me to be angry. He hurt me. I was only fourteen.”  
“And how old were you when you met the other one?”

Bucky’s knee shook and he shuffled the cards faster. He didn’t want to say, didn’t want to talk about it.

“Sixteen.” he finally muttered when the silence was too much for him.   
“You know, there are people older than you are now that have things like this happen to them. Someone who abuses another person doesn’t usually start off as such. They bait people in with charm and charisma. In your case, he figured out your weaknesses and insecurities and exploited them to his advantage, but he did it in a way that made it seem like he was helping you. And since he _had_ helped you come off the drugs, why _wouldn’t_ he just want to help you in other ways, too?”

This wasn’t so bad. Just keep talking about himself, nothing else. 

“That...that’s what I thought. He was…” He choked on his words a bit. “He was good to me, made me feel good about myself.”  
“But he made you feel other things, didn’t he?”

Keeping the cards in his hands still now, Bucky took a few moments to think that over. There had been other things. Things that always kept Bucky down and right where he wanted. 

“I felt...guilty? Yeah. All the time,” He admitted. “I was always scared I was going to do something wrong, something to make him mad or that he would be disappointed in me.”   
“Was he mad and disappointed in you often?”

Bucky nodded and then shook his head. 

“Yes and no.” He told him. “When I behaved, Alex…”

He froze, mouth hanging open in mid-sentence. Folding his lips in, he swallowed hard while Dr. Strange motioned for him to go on. 

“Alex...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Alex was happy with me when I behaved. But when I didn’t, he wasn’t. When he was happy with me, I felt good about myself. When he wasn’t, I felt like a failure.”  
“Which means your self esteem was based off Alex’s mood.” Bucky just shrugged at that. “And how did Alex want you to behave? Did you only do the things _he_ wanted to do?”  
“No.” Bucky pulled his eyebrows together. “Alex did things I wanted to do, too, but...well they, I guess that was a reward, for acting the way Alex wanted me to act.”

Bucky had never thought these things in the past. He felt foolish for being so blind to it. All that time, he hadn’t noticed that all the spoiling, the pampering, it was almost always done after he’d done something wrong. Sure, Bucky was allowed to do what he wanted, but it was always within Alex’s boundaries.

“So, you’ve said his name. And the world didn’t fall apart, did it?”

He shook his head.

“And Alexander Pierce didn’t just show up either, right?”

Tears filled Bucky’s eyes, tears he tried to wipe away, but they kept on coming.

“But...I _want_ him to come back sometimes. I _miss_ him.” He groaned, smothering his hands over his face. “Why? I _know_ that he didn’t really love me. I _know_ that he hurt me. But...I still _miss_ him. I still love Alex.”  
“Of course you feel that, Bucky.” Dr. Strange handed him a tissue. “Because a part of you _wants_ the illusion back. Alex had thirteen years to cultivate a very deep need for him in you. He set you up to fail, and then took care of you. He made you feel bad about yourself, and then spoiled you. It’s okay to miss him. And it’s okay to still love him.”

Wiping his eyes with the tissue, Bucky sucked in a few hard breaths and nodded. Then he looked up at Dr. Strange. 

“Can we talk about something else now?”  
“Sure, Bucky. How about Steve? Can we talk about him?”  
“Steve?”

They’d never really talked about Steve before. Bucky was wary of doing so now. What did they need to discuss about him?

“Did Steve ever get mad at you?”

Stomach twisting, Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek. There was only one time he could remember making Steve angry with him.

“Yes.”  
“And what happened?”  
“He...took care of me anyway.”  
“So Steve didn’t make you feel bad?”  
“No.” Bucky closed his eyes. “He told me he still loved me.”  
“Bucky, how does being with Steve make you feel?”

Bucky glanced down at his lap, feeling his cheeks burn with a blush. 

“Good. He makes me feel strong, and like I can do the things Alex said I couldn’t.” He hesitated and then added: “He scares me, too.”  
“You’re afraid of Steve?”  
“No not _of_ Steve. But...he’s going to leave me.”  
Dr. Strange nodded. “I can understand that fear. It’s okay to feel that, too, and it’ll take a while to be able to feel safe and secure with someone.”  
“I wanna be with Steve. I love him. I love him more than I ever loved Alex.”  
“But you think he’s going to leave?”  
“Why would he stay?”  
“Why has he stayed so far?”

To that, Bucky only shrugged. He had no answer.

**Month Three**

Ignoring it doesn’t work.   
Talking about it doesn’t help.  
Talking doesn’t stop the panic attacks.  
It doesn’t stop the nightmares.   
The fear, the anger, the depression, the paranoia; it’s all still there.  
Not talking about it is worse.  
The panic attacks are stronger.  
The nightmares are longer.  
The fear, the anger, the depression, the paranoia; it’s overwhelming. 

“He’s probably just running late, Bucky.” 

That was Janet, one of the staff who was in the common room today, overseeing the patients with visitors that weren’t allowed to leave that room with them yet. Today was meant to be Bucky’s first day able to venture out and about the campus with a visitor. 

It was Steve’s scheduled day. And he wasn’t there. Bucky had been waiting for nearly an hour, and Steve still wasn’t there. 

“He’s not coming.” Bucky muttered.

It was only a matter of time before Steve tired of waiting for Bucky to get better. He was sick of having to put up with Bucky and his constant need for validation and affection, of his mood swings and his late night calls to tell him about his nightmares when he couldn’t fall back to sleep, of the endless tears and the resistance to talk about things.

“Has he ever not come?” Janet asked.

He shook his head. 

“No. He always comes. Twice a week. Wednesday and Friday.”  
“Then why would he just suddenly not show up?”  
“Because he hates me!” He exclaimed, feeling his face heating up. “Because I love him and I can’t trust anyone and everyone always turns on me and--”  
“Bucky,” She interrupted him calmly, holding her palm out to him. “Breathe, hon, remember to breathe. Do your counting.”

Slamming his mouth closed, Bucky realized how fast his heart was racing. Sweat clung to his face and tremors began to rock through his limbs. He started counting like Janet suggested. Seven seconds inhaling through his nose, ten seconds exhaling through his mouth. 

“There you go,” Janet soothed after a few minutes. “No need to panic, right?”  
“Right.” He mumbled. 

Bucky ran his hands over his face and sighed. Panic attack avoided. That was a good thing. A good thing...but still…

Steve wasn’t coming. This was it. The last visit would be the last memory Bucky would ever have of him. 

Head resting on the table, tucked in his arms, Bucky just sat there for what felt like hours. He could hear other people with their visitors, hear people coming and going, hear exchanges of love and even some cries. 

The touch on the back of his neck was warm and strangely familiar. Until he felt it, Bucky hadn’t noticed he’d started falling asleep. Slowly, he lifted his head and glanced around, feeling a bit out of sorts. Panic attacks, even just the threat of one, always wore him out. 

“You tired, Buck?”

That voice snapped him right back into reality, and Bucky spun around. Eyes wide, he leapt out of the chair and tossed his arms around Steve, clinging onto him for dear life.

“Steve!” He cried.

A rush of tears hit him hard. The relief Bucky felt was so overwhelming that he couldn’t hold in anything. He gasped and shook so hard that Steve needed to brace him.

“Hey, hey,” Steve comforted, holding on to him and placing his hand at the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Bucky.”  
“I didn’t think you were coming.” 

Burrowing his face into Steve’s shoulder, Bucky wept a little more, embarrassed that he’d said that out loud. 

“Oh, no, Bucky, of course I was coming.” Steve gently rocked him back and forth a little. “I’m sorry, baby, I got stuck at work a little late. That’s all, I swear.”

He nodded, understanding, and believing him completely. But he didn’t want to let go yet. Steve just held onto him for a while, not once complaining, not once even voicing any discomfort.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky finally murmured a good ten minutes later. He unwrapped himself from Steve and only stepped an inch or two back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Steve leaned in and kissed the top of his head. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Bucky.” He said. “It’s just like what we talked about during Family Week, remember? Your feelings are okay to have. They’re yours and I’m not going to dismiss them. All I can do is show you that I’m here for you whenever you need it.” Bucky wiped his eyes and nodded at him, but didn’t answer any further than that. “You wanna talk about it?”  
“No.”  
Steve gave him a soft smile. “Okay. You can if you want to. Do want to go outside then? It’s a nice day out.”

That made Bucky perk back up. He’d forgotten all about being allowed to go out on the campus with Steve today.

“Yeah! Yeah, okay!” Bucy grabbed hold of Steve’s hand and towed him toward the door. “I wanna show you my favorite spot.”

He could hear Steve chuckle behind him. It made Bucky feel good. At least Steve still found him amusing.

Bucky took him to the place he loved more than any other on the campus. He spent the most time there. Not that he did much of anything else. There was horseback riding, and bike riding, gardens to plant in and a pool, even a gym, none of which Bucky had been particularly motivated to use or participate in. Still, he’d found a spot where he could go and just zone out for a while, a place where no one asked him questions, no one tried to make him remember things he’d sooner forget. 

Down one of the paths lined with hundred of trees, the high branches stretched right out across the road, as though they were hands reaching for another. Ivy and moss dripped down from them, and the sun beamed through the open patches, cascading down onto the ground like ethereal cones of light. 

“You like it?” Bucky asked when they got there. 

Steve was looking around, his eyes wandering from the trees to the branches and then landed on him. 

“It’s beautiful, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned, sticking his tongue out a little and biting down on it a bit. He found himself exceptionally excited that Steve thought this spot was as nice as he thought it was. Looping his arm with Steve’s he tugged him over to sit up against one of the trees. It looked like Steve was getting cozy just leaned up against the trunk and pat the spot next to him, only Bucky wasn’t having that. He only got Steve twice a week, for two hours, and always surrounded by other people. This was the first time they were alone in two months. Sure, he sat down next to him-- _right_ next to him and then curled up and put his head in his lap. 

The minute Bucky was cuddled up with him, Steve started playing with his hair. Alex flashed in his mind. Alex’s fingers doing the same thing. Alex touching him. Alex reprimanding him. Alex praising him. Alex mad at him. Alex happy with him. Alex trying to shoot him. 

Bucky gasped--a sort of yelping noise forming in the back of his throat--shook and then froze, and Steve pulled his hand away from his head. 

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed. “Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Giving himself a few moments to get his breathing back to normal, Bucky felt his heartbeat settle and then rolled a bit to look at Steve. He looked horrified, as though he’d just done the worst thing imaginable. While the feeling of Steve’s fingers in his hair had triggered him, Bucky felt even worse that Steve needed to stop. He _liked_ when people played with his hair, always had. 

Bucky rolled back over and whispered, “Don’t stop, Steve. Please?”  
He could feel the hesitation come off of him. “But...I thought it reminded you…”  
“It does,” He said softly. “But I don’t _want_ it to. I like when you do do it. I...no. No I’m not letting that…” He almost did it, almost used a swear instead of his name, but he just couldn’t get it out. “Alex won’t ruin that for me.”  
“Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“Just do it, Steve. _Please_.”

There was another moment of hesitation on Steve’s part, but when Bucky shook his hair out towards him, he felt his fingers slowly, very slowly, comb through again. He stopped immediately when Bucky tensed. Bucky couldn’t help it. The touch just reminded him of Alex and the things that had happened. But he wouldn’t let that happen. He grabbed Steve’s hand and put it back where he wanted. Steve sighed, but went along with Bucky’s request. 

For a while, Bucky would whimper and tense and even flinch. No matter how many times Steve said he would stop, Bucky wouldn’t let him. He was going to get past this one thing at least, this one he needed to take back. Gradually, he started to loosen up. Steve’s touch wasn’t like Alex’s touch. It was different, softer somehow, and eventually, Bucky practically started purring at it, trying to get Steve’s hand impossibly closer to him. 

“Mr. Barnes?” Steve snickered, saying his name softly and right into his ear while still letting his hands wander around his hair.   
“Mmm?”  
“I think you’re getting a little frisky.”

It wasn’t until he said that that it registered to Bucky that his eyes were closed and he had started moaning quietly. On top of that, right through his pants, Steve could see...well...he could see _exactly_ how good his touch had him feeling. 

“Oh God,” Bucky murmured, quickly sitting up. 

His mouth hung open and flapped a bit. Until that moment, Bucky hadn’t been able to feel that. Everytime he tried, it just wouldn’t work. He felt so guilty about trying to have those thoughts and the rest of his body just wouldn’t cooperate. Shifting a bit to readjust his pants, Bucky started to laugh. And then he started to laugh harder, and then harder, until his sides hurt, tears spilled over his eyes, and he could hardly breathe. 

He knew Steve laughed along with him, but when Bucky started calming down, he noticed the tears on his face. Even though Steve had been laughing, he was crying. Bucky reached out and wiped the tears away for him.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered.   
Steve smiled. “Nothing. I just...I missed that laugh.”  
“Yeah?” Bucky fought back a huge grin. “Well, at least I’ve been able to see how beautiful you are.”

Steve covered his face as he let out an embarrassed chuckle, but Bucky could see the flush that crept into his skin. 

“Aw, Bucky!”

It still worked. Bucky could still make him blush and get cute and awkward. Maybe, maybe Steve really _wasn’t_ going to leave. There was one thing he was sure about though. One thing Steve had helped him prove today. 

“I beat him, Steve.” He declared. “I beat Alex. Even if it’s only this one thing. He took thirteen years, but...” Bucky took Steve’s hand and put it into his hair again, “he didn’t take this. I win this one.”

Bucky’s eyes closed softly when Steve fixed his hand to the side of his face and he leaned into the touch. 

“You won, Bucky.” He murmured.  
“I love you, Stevie. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome, Bucky. I love you, too.”

**Month Four**

Keep it all in.  
It hurts.  
Numb it away.  
Never works.  
Let it out.  
It sorta helps.

“Loud noises. That’s what bothers me most.” Bucky fiddled with his fingers and sighed, looking away from the rest of the group. “The other day, Scott dropped something in our room and I thought Alex was trying to shoot me. And then I thought I shot Steve again. So I started screaming and ducked for cover.”  
“That still happens to me, too, Bucky.” said Shauna. She was seated across from him and went on when his eyes lifted. “It’s not as bad as it used to be, I mean, I used’ta jump at any ol’ loud sound. Even just a car engine revving. It’s not so bad now. I’ve gotten used to the noises again.”

Bucky could feel the guilt swelling within him. He knew Shauna was only trying to help, as she had in the past, but this was just one of those things that made him feel worse.

“But don’t you get it, Shauna?” He explained, unable to look her in the eye. “You were in a war. You were doing something noble and courageous, while I was sitting around being spoiled and pampered and being a brat when I didn’t get my way. Who…” He leaned forward and hung his head. “Who the hell am I to feel that way after what you went through?”

Next to Shauna, Isaiah straightened up and sucked in a deep breath. 

“Oh, yeah, but Bucky, my mom would be mad at everything, any little thing, and start screaming and yelling that I was the worst son in the world. For the longest time I didn’t think I’d ever do anything right. But she never touched me. Never hit me; not once.” Isaiah paused as if he was waiting to see if Bucky had anything to say. Since he didn’t, at least he couldn’t think of something at the moment, he went on. “Do I not have the right to feel pain after what your step-father did to you?”  
“Well, no, I mean…she hurt you…so…” Bucky shrugged. “I dunno.”  
“What I think they’re trying to say, Bucky,” Dr. Strange stated. “Is that while Shauna may have gone through a longer period of intensity, that doesn’t lessen how intense your experience was for you.” He crossed his ankle over his knee and glanced out at everyone now. “Sometimes people go through things that leave them with poison in their veins. Now, it’s your choice whether or not you either let that poison spread or you keep it contained. You might not ever be fully rid of the poison, but that doesn’t mean it has to ever kill you.”

The group was quiet for a moment as they let Dr. Strange’s words sink in. It had taken Bucky almost three months before he finally started talking here in group. At first, he hated having to go at all. He didn’t want to listen to a bunch of people complaining about their lives. He didn’t want to _be_ a person sitting there and complaining about his life. But the longer he went, the more compelled he was to share some of his stories. It was safe there, a place where no one would judge him. Not to mention they’d all suffered as well and were there with him. Some had made a lot of progress in their recovery, others Bucky had progressed more than. He found it was inspiring and even a little freeing to open up. 

“I have to sleep with a nightlight.” Martin suddenly said. “Not because the dark reminds me of anything.” He looked rather sheepish now. “I just…I need that nightlight on. I won’t go to bed until it is. Drives my roommate crazy.”  
“Did you sleep with a nightlight when you were little?” Dr. Strange asked. “And then stop?” Martin nodded. “Regression is very common when facing anxiety and stress. Regressive behavior can be complex and harmful, or simple and harmless. You may revert to an old, usually immature behavior to ventilate feelings of frustration. It only becomes a problem when used frequently to avoid adult situations and causes problems in the your life. I’ve noticed patterns of regression in almost all of you, none of which seems harmful. It’s all pretty healthy, in fact.”  
“Bucky whines.” Sabrina said from next to him.   
“I do _not_!” 

Cheeks turning red, Bucky could hear the whine in his voice when he spoke. He buried his face in his hands and laughed with the rest of them. 

“I sleep with a teddy bear.” Shauna admitted.   
“I sit on my mom’s lap.” Sabrina added.   
“I…” Bucky trailed off, a bit of embarrassment slipping through. Regardless of that feeling, it was amazing, so relieving, to hear that others also did things like this. “I suck my thumb. And I call Mom, mommy.”

Dr. Strange had nodded to all of their examples.

“All those things give you a sense of security, reminds you of a time when you were safe.” He told them. “And none of it is harmful. You can do it for the rest of your lives as long as it doesn’t hold you back from living.”  
“So does that mean I can keep whining?”

They all chuckled along with him, Sabrina jostling his shoulder a bit as if to say she hadn’t meant to embarrass him. 

“Sure, Bucky, you can keep whining.” Dr. Strange assured him. 

**Month Five**

It’s okay to cry.  
It’s not okay to try to make someone else cry.  
It’s okay to be mad.  
It’s not okay to lash out at loved ones.  
It’s okay to feel scared.  
It’s not okay to ignore it.  
It’s okay to smile.  
It’s okay to laugh.  
It’s okay to feel...okay.

“There’s a surprise waiting for you, Buck.” Steve said from the front of the car, taking a peek at him in the rearview mirror. 

In the back seat, snuggled up with his mom, Bucky gasped with excitement. He glanced up at his mom, who grinned down at him. They were on their way out to dinner, Bucky on an off property pass for a few hours. Dr. Strange even extended curfew to ten o’clock. 

“What is it?!” Bucky asked. 

His mom laughed and squeezed her arms around him. 

“Can’t say,” She pecked the top of his head. “Wouldn’t be a surprise then.”

Bucky immediately turned his attention back to Steve. Steve was the weak link, usually caving to Bucky’s whining and playful pleas. It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to figure out that big, weepy eyes and a pushed out bottom lip tended to turn Steve to putty in his hands. 

“Stevie? _Ple-ea-se_ , tell me.”

Then there were times like these when Steve’s resolve was just as tough as his mom’s. When Steve didn’t want to give in, he didn’t. It was good, too, since sometimes what Bucky wanted wasn’t healthy or right. Like the week he begged him to bring him drugs. The cravings had been so hard, so intense, that Bucky thought he was going to die from them. Instead of talking about them with his addiction counselor, Dr. Grey, he opted to attempt getting the drugs. All he could think about was how much he wanted them. But Steve didn’t back down, no matter how much Bucky cried and begged. When Steve finally got him to go to Dr. Grey, Bucky had been so angry with Steve. He’d gone to this stupid place for him, was working to fix himself, and he couldn’t give him this one little thing. Once he’d talked through it all with Dr. Grey, and his head cleared, Bucky was infinitely grateful that Steve was strong enough not to give in. 

But there were the times when the requests were simple and playful, like the time he tried to get Steve to let Bucky tickle him and Steve refused. When he was honest with himself, Bucky enjoyed when he put up a fight. Not that he didn’t enjoy when Steve gave into him, cause he did, oh boy did he love being pampered by Steve. 

So when Steve flicked his gaze up to the rearview mirror again and just shook his head, it made his stomach flutter pleasantly. 

“Pretty please?” He tried again.   
Steve chuckled. “Nope.”

Bucky pouted in the back seat, noticing the vast differences between Steve and Alex. Sometimes, Alex indulged Bucky’s playful whining like he enjoyed it. Other times he’d get mad. Steve played along and never even indicated that he was irritated. When he wanted Bucky to stop, he simply said it. 

“We’re here!” Steve announced.

They were at a family style restaurant and Bucky put himself between Steve and his mom as they went inside, holding his mom’s hand and looping his arm with Steve’s. Bucky leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder as he spoke to the host inside. He didn’t bother listening to what was said. Bucky just closed his eyes, small grin on his lips, and was just content in being there with them. He was still in that position as they walked to their table. 

It was a little noisy in there, but nothing could have prepared him for the shouts and cheers that greeted him. 

“Bucky!”

The initial shock of all the noise made Bucky latch onto Steve, fearful that something awful was about to happen. He could see Steve motioning to those at the table as though telling them to take it easy. Looks of remorse and apology fixed to their faces. Bucky had been so startled--and at the very edge of an anxiety attack that luckily backed off--that he hadn’t realized who was there. 

Now that he was settled again, heart rate and breathing normal, he got the chance to see the long table was full of people. Face lighting up, a huge, excited smile lifted his lips. There was Steve’s team. All of them were there--Sam, Natasha, Clint, Maria and Sharon. They’d all come to visit him multiple times, sometimes more than once a week, usually with funny stories about Steve--they did have tons of them. 

“Hi!” He shouted. “What are you doing here?”  
“We wanted to be here.” Natasha said, toasting her glass of water to him while trying to avoid the sugar packet Clint threw at her. 

Clint looked over at Bucky with a smirk and started signing to him. It was something that he’d taken to teaching Bucky every time he came to visit. He said that learning sign language had helped in his physical therapy-- _keeps me occupied_ he said--so he thought it might help Bucky along, too. 

_Hey, kid._ He signed. _How’s things_?

It took him a minute, but Bucky signed, or attempted to sign, back that he was good and to thank him. Clint gave him a thumb’s up, so Bucky figured he got it right. 

“But I don’t get it.” He said. “Why did you want to be here?”  
“Cause you’re our friend, buddy,” Sam replied. “It’s your first time out. We hoped you’d let us share it with you.”

Friend? They considered him their friend? Bucky looked out at all their smiling and welcoming faces. He’d thought they only came to him for Steve’s sake. Now they were telling him they thought him a friend. 

“You’re my friends?” He wondered. “You want me as your friend?”  
Maria chuckled. “You think we’ve been spending so much time with you cause we _didn’t_ like you?”  
“We’re your friends, Bucky.” Sharon assured him. “As long as you _want_ us as your friends.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, eyes swimming with pride and bliss, and Steve grinned before put his arm around his shoulder. 

These people weren’t just Steve’s team anymore. They were his friends. 

It was a good time, most of the evening, filled with laughter and banter and fun. While Bucky still felt awkward and shy around them, he did his best to join in.Things got pretty loud every now and then, but since he didn’t want to ruin anything, Bucky kept the fact that sometimes it was all too overwhelming to himself. There was no reason to burden anyone and interrupt their good time just because he was feeling a little uncomfortable. 

That was until the wait staff sang a very loud rendition of “Happy Birthday” at the table next to them. It was just too loud, and Bucky put his hands over his ears. 

“Hey, Bucky?” Steve murmured, leaning in close to him. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” He grunted, lowering his hands and forcing himself to deal with the noise.  
“Do you wanna go outside for a minute? Get some fresh…”  
“I said I’m _fine_ , Steve!” Bucky snapped. “For _fuck’s_ sake.”

Everyone quieted for a moment, their eyes drifting to him, and then they resumed the conversation like Bucky hadn’t just lashed out at Steve. They lowered their voices though, as if they realized it was their chatter that pushed him. Even his mom went back to talking like nothing had happened. 

The only ones not engaged in the discussion were Bucky and Steve. Bucky sat there seething. He wasn’t sure what he was mad at. He just knew he was mad. Steve was quiet and still next to him. His face made Bucky think he was running over things in his head. 

“Bucky,” He said quietly to him after several minutes of silence. “I feel hurt when you yell at me like that because I’m only trying to help you.”

Anger starting to ebb out, Bucky glimpsed at him from the corner of his eye. Now he understood why it looked like Steve was thinking so hard. That was something they’d learned in therapy together. Communication. Steve didn’t want to make him feel attacked, even though Bucky had been the one to snap at him. Guilt crept in as the anger faded. 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”  
“That’s okay.” Steve pat his thigh. “What happened?”  
“It was too loud.” He admitted. “I got scared. And then I felt stupid for being scared, so I got mad.”  
“You’re not stupid for feeling things, Bucky, remember?” He comforted, gently caressing the back of Bucky’s neck and then running his fingers through his hair. 

Bucky’s heart raced pleasantly at the touch, a gentle whimper coming out of his throat. He curled his toes and bit his lip. Anyone else who played with his hair--and once she learned he liked it, Natasha did it every time she visited--it just felt nice, comforting. But when Steve did it…

“ _Stee-eve_ …” He whined. 

Steve snickered, leaning in to press his hairline against Bucky’s temple. He kissed the side of his face, but didn’t relent in playing with his hair. 

“Mmm. I do love knowing how to get you riled up.” He teased. “But I guess I should stop, huh?”  
“Okay, whatever’s going on over there’s gotta stop,” Clint suddenly shouted. “Or get a room.”

Pulling away from him--not before adding on last peck to his cheek--Steve laughed and made a comment about an incident in the bathroom between Clint, Natasha and Sam. Although Bucky didn’t know what they were talking about, he didn’t particularly mind. Their laughter made him smile. 

Bucky’s friends made him feel good. 

**Month Six**

Just deal with it.  
Accept it.  
This pain will never end.   
Nothing will ever help.  
Life is just miserable.   
And always will be.

“Come on, Bucky, it’s time to get out of bed.”

Bucky pulled the blanket up to his chin and rolled over, facing away from Dr. Strange. 

“Don’t wanna,” He mumbled.   
“You have to.”  
He sighed. “Why?”  
“You have to eat breakfast.”  
“Not hungry.”

He could hear Dr. Strange coming closer to the bed so he pulled the blanket tighter around him as though it could provide some sort of shield between them. 

“I let you skip dinner last night,” He reminded him. “You said you didn’t feel good. You can’t skip two meals. Now _get_ up.”

It wasn’t very often that Dr. Strange’s voice got hard and firm, so when it did Bucky knew he meant business. He rolled onto his back and huffed. Rubbing his face, he sat up slowly.

“Okay.”

Bucky got a satisfied nod of the head from him, but he didn’t leave. Instead, Dr. Strange crossed his arms and sat down on Harry’s, Bucky’s new roommate’s bed. This was his third roommate. His first, Scott had left six weeks ago. His second, Anthony, left four weeks after that. And Bucky was still here.

“You missed yoga this morning.” Dr. Strange pointed out. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

Bucky shrugged.

“You still tired?”

Bucky nodded.

“Did you have any nightmares?”

Bucky shrugged. 

“Talk to me, Bucky.” He requested. “You haven’t been this closed off since you first came here.”

Even though his gaze was casted down, Bucky lowered his head a little more, turning it just slightly to the side. Lips pressing together, folding in and then pushing out in a sigh, he shook his head. 

“What’s the point?” He murmured. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”  
“Why doesn’t it matter?”

He shrugged. 

“You’re feeling very depressed again,” Dr. Strange told him, not that Bucky needed him to.

Depressed wasn’t even a strong enough word. Bucky hurt all over. He felt like crying all the time. He was angry all the time. He was tired all the time. Bucky stopped going to activities--he’d been taking cooking classes and went horseback riding, used the pool all the time. But now he didn’t want to do any of that. Whenever someone was scheduled to come visit, he would be excited and then not even care once they were there. 

“I’d like to talk about this, Bucky.”

What was the point in talking? He’d worked hard, talked, shared, did his assignments, listened, and felt better. And now it was all gone. None of it mattered. 

“Are you taking your meds?”  
“Twice a day, everyday.” He sighed.   
“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Bucky.” Dr. Strange said. “You’re relapsing. It’s common. And you probably feel like this is _worse_ than before. Am I right?”

Bucky hesitated, but he nodded. 

“I can tell by your behavior that it’s not. It only feels that way because you were feeling good and this hit you hard.” He explained. Then he took in a deep breath and Bucky glanced up at him. “I can’t help but notice this started just a little while after we discussed the possibility of you entering the transitional living program off campus.” Bucky’s chest tightened and he pulled his feet up to the edge of the bed so he could hold onto his knees. “Are you worried about that?”

Chin down on his knees, Bucky let his eyes stare down at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but Dr. Strange. He kept his mouth shut tight. 

“If you don’t talk about it, I can’t help you.”

Bucky turned his head to rest his temple on his knees. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to think about it. Tears clouded his eyes and Dr. Strange must have noticed. 

“Let it out, Bucky. It’s okay.”

At those words, Bucky finally let go and just cried. He had been holding back for over a week, despite the desperate need for it, that the tears came out in waves. Remaining in that position, he held onto his legs tightly as though they were able to hug him, and raised his thumb to his lips. 

“What if I can’t do it?” He whispered, thumb in his mouth. “What if I mess up? What if I go back to the streets? What if I fail again?”  
“First of all, what do all those questions start with?”

Bucky took a second to think about it. 

“...What if?”  
“That’s right. Maybe you should ask yourself the opposite. What if you _don’t_ mess up? What if you _don’t_ go back to the streets? What if you _don’t_ fail?”  
“But...I’m scared.”  
“Fear isn’t always a bad thing. It makes you weigh your options, lets you know that you have something to lose.”  
“I still don’t like it.”  
“I know. But you need to keep in mind that you’re not going out there on your own. For starters, you’d be set up in an apartment in one of our communities. It’ll be closer to the city, closer to your support system. And you have a great support system. Between your mom and your boyfriend, and all your friends, I think you’ll be in good hands. All of them have continued coming to sessions here and Steve and your mom on their own.” 

Dr. Strange paused, giving Bucky time to process everything. But the thing that stuck out most was him calling Steve his boyfriend. Boyfriend? Is that was Steve was? They’d never discussed that, and now he felt silly. He didn’t have time to think about it now.

“But I’ve never been on my own before.” Bucky said. “I don’t want to be alone.”  
“The point is just to make sure you have the skills to be on your own. You don’t need to _stay_ on your own. And besides, you’re not going to be completely out of treatment yet. You’ll be expected to go to a _minimum_ of two therapy sessions a week. Mondays through Fridays you need to be up between nine and ten so you’ll still have a set schedule, you’ll even have a wake up call. For the first thirty days you’re required to present and discuss a weekly schedule. Staff will help you with all that. They’ll help register you for school--you still want to go back to school, yes?”

Right now, Bucky didn’t know what he wanted. The idea of finishing high school was still intriguing though. 

“I guess.”  
“Well, they’ll help with that and if you still want to volunteer at a youth council for addiction, they can help find something for you. Same with setting up appointments and meetings and finding a sponsor, which I think would be good for you.”  
“Can Clint be my sponsor?”  
“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him.”  
“What else?” Bucky whispered. “What else is it like?”  
Dr. Strange smiled. “Staff offers life lesson courses. Things like cleaning, cooking, shopping, budgeting, setting up accounts.”  
“I don’t know how to do any of that.”  
“You’ll learn.”  
“I’ve never had a job.”  
“You’ll get one. And in the mean time, you have people who will help take care of you. It’s okay to lean on them, Bucky. Steve, your mom, your friends, they want to help.”  
“Can someone stay with me?”

Playful purse on his lips, Dr. Strange smirked. 

“Steve can sleep over on the weekends.” He answered the real question Bucky was asking. “Not during the week. He can come by whenever you want him to, but he can’t spend the night.”  
Bucky sighed. “I still dunno…”  
“Look, this is not something you need to decide now. But I do think you’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky glanced down again. He gave him a nod anyway.

Dr. Strange told him to go get breakfast and continue the day in Bucky’s normal manner. But Bucky was still scared. 

What if he couldn’t do it?

Then, he considered what Dr. Strange had said, and suddenly, that seemed much more important than any of his worries. 

What if he _could_ do it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments! Any criticism is welcome, but please keep it polite and constructive. Saying you suck or this sucks doesn't get me anywhere. 
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)


	46. Transitional Living

**Month Seven**

Don’t forget to breathe.  
Work hard.  
Nothing is perfect.  
Never will be.  
There’s no such thing as perfection.  
Mistakes happen.  
Own up.   
Fix them.  
Move on.  
It’s okay.

“Finish your homework, Buck.”

A whiny sort of noise built in Bucky’s throat. 

“Ah, I _am_ , Steve.” 

Even though he hadn’t even lifted his gaze to look at him--yet somehow knew that Bucky was watching him--Steve shook his head and sighed through a smile.

“You’re not gonna finish it staring at me.”

Smirking, Bucky tore his eyes away from the shirtless Steve on the other side of the kitchen table, working on some sketch that he wouldn’t let Bucky see yet. He tried to concentrate on his math homework, but with Steve half-naked like that, it was incredibly difficult. Bucky wasn’t sure which Steve was his favorite Steve. Half-naked? Detective Rogers? Sweaty from workout? Covered in paint? Naked? They were all just so...so…

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

The blush reached the tips of Steve’s ears and, holding back Bucky’s favorite awkward grin, he snapped his sketch book closed. Looking up at him--those eyes making Bucky’s heart melt--Steve stood up.

“I’m leaving.” He announced. “You’re never gonna get your work done with me here.”  
“No, no!” Bucky whimpered. “I’ll get it done!”

But Steve continued throwing his shirt--which had been slung over the back of the chair--on and came over for a kiss. He stood behind Bucky for a minute, rubbing his shoulders and leaning in close. 

“You have a test tomorrow.” Steve reminded him. “And I want another one to be able to go up on the fridge.”

Leaning into Steve’s touch, Bucky let out an embarrassed groan and peeked over at his refrigerator. The door of it was covered in tests and assignments that Bucky did well on. It was Steve’s idea--really Steve insisted. _It’ll remind you of your successes when you’re down on yourself_ he had said. Now, whenever Bucky received a high mark, Steve took it and pinned it up on the fridge. 

“All right, all right,” Bucky relented, knowing Steve was probably right. 

He’d never get this done when his mind was so focused on Steve instead of what he should be concentrating on. 

“I don’t _want_ to go, you know,” Steve purred in his ear, running his hand once through Bucky’s hair. “Maybe I should just go in your bedroom and wait. Bring me your work when you’re done. And we’ll go over it.”

His lips touched the side of Bucky’s neck while he hand trailed across his thigh. Bucky whimpered and shifted, letting out a soft moan. Steve yanked his hand away and kissed the spot his lips had been. 

Bucky peered up at him, lip quivering. That made Steve smirk. This guy sure knew what he was doing, and Bucky loved every moment of it. Unlike Alex, Steve pushed buttons in a way that never left Bucky feeling guilty or wrong--something Bucky didn’t know he felt sometimes with Alex until more recently. 

“O-okay…” Bucky breathed and then closed his eyes when Steve’s fingers found their way through his hair again.   
“Take your time, baby,” Steve murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”

First watching Steve as he sauntered out of the kitchen, Bucky spun back around to finish his work, slowing down a bit when he realized he was rushing to just get it done and not actually getting it done right. 

School, while as tedious as it was the first time around, was actually quite enjoyable. Bucky had been pleased to learn that he had, in fact, completed and passed his Freshman year. He had _barely_ passed it, but he had. Which meant he only needed to finish three years of school, and given the program he was in, it didn’t need to take that long. If he worked hard, adhered to all the attendance requirements and passed, he could finish in half that time. 

The staff of the Trans program had helped to find him the Ambrose Adult High School, which offered adults who had dropped out of traditional school a chance to earn a high school diploma. At first, Bucky was nervous that he’d be the oldest there, and when he found himself to actually be in the majority age group, it took a lot of pressure off. Going back to school really helped. The adult program had a lot of freedom, which meant it was on him to be there and take time to work at home. There was a uniform--maroon Polo shirt, khakis, black shoes--math, English and science every day and Spanish, art, and History every other day. Bucky took a bus to get there and back, except on days Steve was off. Those days, Steve would come get him and they’d either go to dinner with everyone or go meet his mom. Weekends, Steve usually spent staying over, just like Dr. Strange said he could. Sundays, his mom always came over, and Bucky was still excited that _he_ was able to cook for her. The two spoke everyday, and saw each other usually twice a week. Every time he saw her, Bucky was filled with relief and just hugged her for several minutes, many times ending up cuddled up with her on the couch. She never seemed to mind, never said anything about him calling her mommy either.

Bucky went to his therapy sessions four times a week, kept up with his medicines, met with his sponsor--which Clint was happy to provide his services for--once every other week, hadn’t missed on day of school yet, and was excelling. Clint had been incredibly helpful. When Bucky first went on his own, he had a number of scares. So terrified of burning the place down--even though he knew the last time there was a fire in a place he called his own was courtesy of Alex--he would panic whenever he left. Some days, he considered quelling his fear with drugs. But Clint always talked him out of it, coming to Bucky no matter where he was or what he was doing. He’d even shown up once with a stray dog.

“Was gonna take ‘im home and see if I could find him a permanent one.” Clint explained. “Didn’t wanna take too long to get here though. Hope you don’t mind. Tasha always complains when I come to her place with one, but I think she’s just puttin on a tough front. Know how many times I’ve seen her lettin one of these guys slobber all over her?”

Even though Bucky had been craving pretty hard, just hearing that as Clint’s greeting had him grinning and already calming down. Within the hour, he was rolling around and playing with the little black and grey mutt. Many times, Clint would come over and just sign to him, even taking his hearing aids out so that Bucky didn’t have much of a choice but to sign back since Clint’s hearing had been so damaged in the explosion he barely heard much without them. It was a decent distractions, and pretty soon he and Clint could have whole conversations without actually speaking a word. 

Bucky was starting to believe that maybe he _could_ do this.

There were other bad days of course. Ones that didn’t revolve around drugs. Like the evening Bucky was just watching television and was suddenly struck with a feeling of dread and doom, and, after pacing back and forth from room to room, ended up curled up under his bed, thumb in his mouth. Not too long after crawling under there, he heard the door open and Steve calling out for him. Bucky was too intimidated to answer. When he could see Steve’s feet in the room, he wanted to answer him. He just couldn’t find his voice to do so. But it turned out he didn’t need to do anything. Steve was still for a moment, just by the bed, before he crouched down and lifted the blanket up enough so that he could see Bucky under there. Bucky peered out at him, eyes wide and pleading for understanding. Steve gave him a soft grin. 

“Hey, Buck.” He greeted.

Bucky didn’t say anything. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Bucky shook his head. 

“You want some company?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment and then nodded. 

Without another word, Steve stood back up, walked around the bed and shimmied under it with him. He put his arms around him and was just there with him until Bucky felt better.

The bad days were being increasingly replaced by good ones though, and with each good day, Bucky felt a little freer, a little lighter. 

**Month Seven**

Bad days will happen.  
Nightmares will happen.  
Breakdowns will happen.  
Don’t panic.  
It’s not the end of the world. 

“Baby, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Steve’s soft voice comforted over the phone. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you need to at least tell me that.”

It was almost three in the morning, and Bucky had woken up in a cold sweat, heart pounding and head spinning. He’d called Steve and just cried for a while, only saying that he was actually okay. 

Bucky had the nightmare again. One he’d never expected to ever have. It started a few weeks ago and was getting worse. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about him, why his brain brought him up at all. 

“Steve?” He shuddered, his voice quivering along with the chill that ran through his body. “Where is Brock Rumlow?”

There was a hesitation before Steve responded. 

“Rumlow? He’s locked up. In county. Why?”

He was shaking, unable to get thoughts of Mr. Rumlow out of his head. All he could picture was being tossed around by the man, being shoved into the trunk--the memory still made Bucky queasy--being hit and having to show him respect anyway. It was just one more thing Alex had done to him. Sure, Alex had never struck him, but Mr. Rumlow had. He was Alex’s muscle. Alex had used him to put fear in Bucky. 

“Is he getting out?” Bucky asked.   
“Of prison? No.” Bucky could hear the worry in Steve getting worse. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

The last time Bucky had seen Mr. Rumlow was the night Alex tried to kill him. He’d told the FBI that Bucky was involved in what Alex had done. 

“Has he ever...mentioned me?”

There was another hesitation on Steve’s side. That made Bucky’s heart pound. 

“It’s not something you need to worry about.”

Nausea snuck up on him so hard that Bucky thought he was going to fall over. Tears spilled over his eyes. 

“He’s going to get me, Steve.” He cried, breaking into sheer panic. “He’s gonna get me somehow. He’ll get out and...and...he’ll put me in the trunk again! He’s gonna get me arrested, I know it!”  
“Bucky!” Steve interrupted his frantic rambling. “Brock Rumlow can’t touch you. He’s _never_ going to get out. Pier--Alex’s lawyer jumped ship. All his funds are frozen. Jennifer Walters will see to it. He can’t ever hurt you again.”  
“No he _will_. He hates me and I’m not in jail and he is and he’s going to find a way I know it. He’s going to…”  
“The FBI isn’t looking for you, Bucky.” Steve promised. “I’m telling you. You don’t need to worry about Rumlow.”  
“Steve…” Bucky’s voice cracked into a whisper. “He’s gonna put me in the trunk. He will. I know he will. I hate the trunk. Stevie, please, don’t let him put me in there again.”  
“Do you want to see him?”  
Bucky froze. “What?”  
“Maybe if you see him, it’ll help you. You’ll see that he’s nothing to you anymore.”  
“I don’t know…” 

Bucky wasn’t sure about this, not even when he was walking into the prison with Steve at his side. Facing his fears was something he was taught to do in Refuge, but he wasn’t sure if this counted. He’d taken a shower in an attempt to calm down, even dressed in some of his nicer clothes to try to make himself feel good. None of it had really worked, since he was a pile of nerves.

Despite the late hour, they were taken to an interrogation room. It was hot in there, and there was one table with chairs on other side of it. 

“I’ll be right out there,” Steve pointed to the mirror on the wall. “I’ll be able to see everything, so you don’t need to worry.”  
“You’re not staying?” Bucky asked.   
“Don’t you think it’s better to do this on your own?”  
“I...I guess…”

Steve pulled him in for a hug, kissing him deeply and assuring him he could do this before leaving the room. Sitting down in the chair further from the door, Bucky drummed his fingers on the table and bounced his knees. If they made him wait too long he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. When the door opened, Bucky thought his heart was going to come flying out his mouth. 

The first person in the room was a guard, and right behind him came Mr. Rumlow, followed by another guard. Upon seeing his visitor, Mr. Rumlow’s eyes shined with vulgar interest. It made Bucky feel weak and sick. The guards lead him to the empty chair, where he sat and placed his laced hands on the edge of the table. Once he was seated, the two guards left. 

For a minute or two, Bucky struggled to keep his head up while Mr. Rumlow just stared back at him like he always did. 

“So, the junkie comes for a visit.” He broke the silence, voice just as arrogant as always. “What’s the matter? Too scary out there in the real world without your puppet strings?”

His words made Bucky’s chest tight. However, once they had a chance to settle inside of him, he felt his muscles begin to relax. A calm, peaceful sensation washed through him. This man was wrong about him, and nothing he said could take that away. Bucky hadn’t gone back to drugs. He wasn’t on the streets. Yes, the real world was scary, and it had taken him a long six months to start living in it without the strings Alex had fixed to him, but he was doing it. Slowly, but surely, he was doing it. 

Bucky leaned back in his seat, a cocky grin turning up his mouth. 

“You know, orange really isn’t your color, Rumlow.” He commented. “But I guess you’ll get used to it.”

The change in Rumlow’s entire mood was immediate. His face went hard, his eyes swimming with venom. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarled. “I watched you for years on your knees, a sniveling little nothing who begged and pleaded to be allowed to stay with Pierce when you had no idea how you were nothing but a _thing_ to him.”  
“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky agreed. “But now you get to watch me walk out that door, while you get to stay here. And you’ll be here a lot longer than I was there.”

Gaze fixed on Rumlow’s, Bucky rose out of the seat. As soon as he was on his feet, Rumlow jerked forward. But he didn’t actually move to attack him and Bucky didn’t flinch away. Giving him one last crooked smile, Bucky walked over to the door. When it opened, he didn’t even glance behind him. He just waved once over his shoulder and left a seething Brock Rumlow behind.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s ear for the hundredth time. 

They were in Bucky’s bed, Bucky wrapped up in both the quilt his mom made for him and Steve’s arms. Leaning his back against Steve’s chest--who was sitting up and against the backboard--Bucky grinned again. Somehow, he had convinced Steve to stay the night, which, by the time all of the chaos started, was Saturday morning anyway, so technically, it was allowed. 

Behind him, Steve was beginning to fall asleep. Bucky could tell by the way his embrace would loosen just a bit and then tighten like he was afraid he’d drop Bucky if he didn’t keep hold of him. Steve told him once that he always slept best when he had him in his arms. Though he didn’t want to disturb Steve, there was something Bucky needed to talk to him about, something he thought he was finally ready to discuss, and with the confidence and adrenaline leftover from meeting with Rumlow, he needed to do it now. Come morning, he’d probably be too chicken again.

“Steve, can I ask you something?”  
“Mhmm,” He responded sleepily.   
“What...um...what are we?”

Steve’s chest rumbled with a chuckle.

“Need you to be more specific than that.”

Biting down on his lip, Bucky fiddled with Steve’s fingers, his hands locked around him still.

“Like, are we, um, like, a couple?” He asked so softly he wouldn’t be surprised if Steve missed it.

By the change in his breathing, Bucky knew he hadn’t. Steve was still for a moment, his arms first tensing around him and then loosening up. Afraid he’d made things awkward or asked the wrong question, Bucky held onto those arms to try to keep them there. But Steve undid his embrace and sat forward, sliding a bit on the bed so that he was almost next to Bucky, but still slightly behind him. He put his arm around Bucky from behind and kissed his cheek.

“Do you want to be?” He asked, lips right by Bucky’s ear. “Is it okay to make this a commitment?”  
“Well,” Bucky cleared his throat. “I just figured if _you’re_ not going anywhere, and _I’m_ not going anywhere with _out_ you…”  
“I’m ready. I’ve been ready since that first time you came over.”  
“You have?” Bucky could feel a rush of exhilaration run through him. “Really?”  
“Sure have.” Steve unwound his arm and scooted around to face him. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” His lowered his chin, and peered up through his lashes. “That’s why I never said anything. But I, uh,” Steve’s cheeks flushed. “I always think about it.”

Bucky felt a smile lifting his mouth. He tried to keep it to a minimal grin, but the muscles in his face just wouldn’t listen. 

“So does that mean you’re my…” Bucky suddenly felt like a teenager. He wished there was some mature, more adult way to word this, but he just couldn’t figure one out. “...boyfriend?”

Steve didn’t seem put off by the term at all. In fact, he seemed genuinely pleased by it, his face lighting up with pride like being Bucky’s boyfriend meant the world to him. Before answering, he leaned in and kissed him. 

“I’ll be your boyfriend if you’ll be mine,” He whispered without moving away. “Will you be mine, Bucky?”

His eyes had been closed when he made his request and when Bucky didn’t answer right away, they flicked open. Steve looked nervous, as though he thought maybe Bucky didn’t really want to solidify their relationship. Only it was quite the contrary. Bucky was so happy, so honored that Steve wanted this that he just couldn’t voice it. Steve wanted to be in a real relationship, one in which he would value Bucky as a person, as the person he was, and not just as someone who provided him with something. 

Bucky tucked his hands under the bottom of Steve’s shirt--clearly surprising him with the action--and lifted it up and over his head, tossing it away. Once Steve’s chest was exposed, Bucky let his fingers trail along the scar from where he’d shot him.

“Buck…”

He didn’t let Steve finish. Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips gently onto the scar. Steve’s skin quivered beneath his mouth. Before giving Steve the chance to say or do anything, Bucky crawled behind him and kissed the scar under his shoulder blade, the one he got saving Bucky’s life. After his lips, which lingered in that spot for a few moments, were pulled away, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve where he kissed the side of his neck. 

“I love you, Stevie,” He whispered. “And I’m so honored that you want me to be your boyfriend, and I would love for you to be mine.”

Steve turned his face towards him. The second their lips were near each other, they moved for a kiss. Bucky could hear the deep inhalation Steve took in through his nose. Steve gently took hold of his neck as though trying to bring him in closer.

It was a tender moment. Bucky knew that, Bucky wanted it to continue, but he just couldn’t resist digging his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelped into the kiss and jerked away, mouth in the middle of a shocked smile and stuck open. Biting down on the tip of his finger, Bucky feigned a look of innocence. 

“You little shit,” Steve chuckled, reaching out for Bucky’s hips and pulling him down. “Get over here.”

Pinned down under Steve’s weight, Bucky had no choice but to take being tickled back by him. He squeaked and squirmed and pleaded as Steve continued to work his fingers into his ribcage. 

“Steve!” He screeched between fits of laughter. “Please! I’m, I’m sorry! I swear…I… oh shit…please…I won’t do it again!”  
“Oh no?” Steve laughed, narrow eyed and wicked smile on his mouth. 

Bucky kept wriggling about, struggling to get out of being tickled as he howled with uncontained laughter.

“Yes! I mean…” He sucked in a deep trying to stifle his laughing. “No...I...Steve!”

Steve let up, but kept his hands right where they were. He pressed his lips down against Bucky’s throat and sucked enough to make him moan. 

“You wanna feel good, baby?” Steve murmured, hot breath hitting Bucky’s neck. “You want your boyfriend to make you feel good?”  
“You already make me feel good, Stevie,” He whispered. “Always.”

Lifting his head, Steve gave him an adoring look and brushed the hair away from his brow. 

“God I love you,” He breathed it out as though he’d be okay if it was the last thing he ever said, and crushed their mouths together. 

Bucky pulled him in close, never wanting to let go.   
And he felt good.   
For the first time in as long as he could remember, all Bucky felt was good. 

**Month Nine**

“ _Steve_!” Bucky whined loudly from his bed.

Chuckles came from inside the bathroom across the hall where Steve was. The door, which hadn’t been closed all the way, pulled open and he stepped into the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt and transforming into Detective Rogers. Grin on his lips, he shook his head.

“Yes?”  
“Don’t go to work today.” He beseeched, bouncing around a bit on the mattress. “Stay here with _me-ee_.”  
“I have to go to work.” Steve replied, hands on his hips and smile still intact. “Keep this good city safe for you.”

Bucky had been all set with a rebuttal for when Steve said no, but that last part of what Steve said replaced it with a warm feeling that settled upon him. Instead, he could only come up with another whine.

“But it’s Saturda-aa-y. I hate when you work the weekends.”

He gave Steve, who came up to him and tousled his hair, a pout. Steve took Bucky’s face in both hands to lean in a plant a kiss. 

“Me, too. But I have to.”  
“Call in sick?”

There was the slightest of hesitations, and Steve’s baby blues flicked to the side for just an instant. That gave Bucky hope. Hope that he’d be able to convince Steve to stay after all.

“You know I can’t do that,” He murmured on his way back to the bathroom.

Before he let Steve get away, Bucky tossed the sheets off and he dashed into the hallway, flinging his arms around Steve’s midriff. He got him to stagger and laugh and put his hands all over his bare back. 

“Please!” Bucky played, trying to drag him back to the bedroom. “Pretty please? Sugar on top?”  
“Bucky!” Steve laughed as he let himself be towed backwards. “I have to go!”

When Bucky didn’t relent, Steve scooped him up over his shoulder. Bucky yelped and laughed, knocking on Steve’s back with the side of his fists. Dropped back onto the bed, Bucky bounced a bit and grinned up at him. He made his eyes wide and big, pushed his bottom lip out and laced his fingers, bringing them right under his chin. 

“Please? My homework is done. I got all As this marking period,” Which had just ended the day before, “I went on an interview to volunteer at the Youth Center,” Something Clint helped find for him and Sam and Natasha had helped him prepare for, “I got a library card,” Sharon and Maria had spent the evening at the library with him to help with his English term paper, “So you have to _celebrate_ with me.”  
“Oh do I?”  
“Yes!”  
“You’re such a punk.” Steve got onto the bed with him and straddled his hips.

The second he got on top of him like that Bucky’s body tightened. They had only just recently started being intimate again--after many long discussions about it. Bucky had sworn he was ready, Steve insisted that he didn’t think he was. The first time, Bucky panicked before anything had really happened, and Steve immediately stopped. They were both a chorus of apologies. Steve stopping like that actually surprised Bucky, and when he told that to Steve, Steve looked hurt and then understanding. 

“I will do whatever _you_ need me to, Bucky.” He had sworn to him. “This is _not_ on me. It’s all up to _you_.”

But Bucky had wanted to feel Steve again. 

“Maybe…if we just…go slow.”

So that’s what they did. Slowly, gradually, they explored each other, figuring out what turned each other on, what one liked and the other didn’t, how they could grow together both emotionally and physically until one night, just a few weeks ago, they’d made love again.

Steve lowered himself over Bucky, sensually grinding his crotch against Bucky’s, and let his tongue glide gently across his collarbone. Shuddering under him, Bucky whimpered. Ever since the first time Steve figured out where he enjoyed being touched most, he always used it to his advantage. And right now it made Bucky melt and practically purr like a kitten. 

Bucky let out a moan, feeling the tightness between his legs getting stronger the more Steve moved. Although Steve never had a problem letting Bucky take the lead, Bucky had to admit he completely loved when Steve did instead. Steve pushed all the right ways, moved slowly and gently until Bucky thought he was going to lose his mind, then sped things up and was rough enough that it just hurt in all the right ways. And the man was a damn powerhouse, so vocal no matter what role he was in, Bucky was surprised no one ever complained. Kissing was definitely his favorite. No matter what he was doing, his lips almost always found a way to kiss Bucky’s body somewhere. All of it made Bucky wild with lust and love. And all of it was so much more intimate and personal and more satisfying than it had ever been with Alex.

With Steve on top of him now, sliding his body against his, Bucky was quickly falling to pieces. He wanted Steve so badly, wanted to beg him to put himself inside of him, to put his mouth around him, to lick every inch of his body. It was when he heard Steve chuckle that Bucky realized he was actually mumbling all those desires.

“Is that what you want, baby?” He drawled. “You want me to lick you? You want me inside of you?”

An embarrassing sort of whimper rose out of Bucky’s throat with Steve speaking to him like that. 

“Yes…” He whispered. “Please, Steve.” 

A chill slithered up Bucky’s spine as Steve’s hand slid up inside his boxers. His toes curled, he chewed his lip and tried to keep from panting while Steve slowly crept closer and closer to his cock. Just when the tips of his fingers reached and pushed gently into his balls, Steve pulled his hand away and licked the side of his neck. 

“Maybe later,” He whispered into his ear, then sat up and gave him a wicked smirk. “I have to go to work now.”  
“What?!” Bucky exclaimed, the frustration shooting through his whole body. “No! Aw, Stevie, please don’t leave me like this.”

A sympathetic look passed across Steve’s face, and for a moment, he glanced down at Bucky like he thought he was the most breathtaking sight in the world. Before Bucky could say anything, Steve was yanking his boxers down and sucking Bucky’s dick into his mouth. Bucky cried out at the pleasure of it, hands gripping the sheets tightly. 

“Oh shit...Steve...Stevie…” 

Steve took hold of his ankles and pushed them back, making Bucky’s knees shoot up as his legs bent. When one of Steve’s fingers slowly slipped inside his tight hole, followed quickly by a second, Bucky almost forgot how to breathe. He gasped and squirmed with delight, his body burning with the fire Steve lit inside him. Bucky pushed back against Steve’s insertion, moans and soft whimpers filling the room until Steve pulled his mouth off Bucky’s cock and crushed it against Bucky’s lips instead. Mouth invaded with Steve’s tongue, Bucky threw his arms around him as Steve kissed him like he was desperate for it. All the while his fingers continued to pump inside of him, opening him up more and more. 

When the pressure on his lips increased almost painfully, he knew Steve was about the shove away. The second he did, Steve ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying all over the place. That was what Bucky loved most about Steve in the bedroom. Sure, he could keep things calm, torment Bucky with his slow and gradual pace, but once he was ready, he moved with such urgency it was like he thought this would be the only chance they ever got. Fumbling with his belt, Bucky lifted his chest so that he could help him with it, just as frantic and anxious to get those pants off as Steve was. 

As Steve worked them off, Bucky scrambled to get a condom and the lube from his nightstand. Steve practically grabbed them from his hands and quickly put the condom on. Squeezing out a glob of lubricant onto his palm, Steve started slicking up his wrapped dick, moving his hand slowly, and then quickly. His head dipped forward, his lips parted and breaths coming quick. Bucky loved watching Steve jerk off. The faces he made, something between concentration and bliss, and the way he seemed to be unsure if he should keep his eyes open or closed was like a work of art. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” He breathed, earning himself the darkening of Steve’s already flushed skin.

Steve was panting, and smiled through it, his eyes closed and then opening to look at Bucky. He moved to sit at the end of the bed, and beckoned Bucky over. 

“Ride me, baby,” He said, taking hold of Bucky’s arm to guide him to his lap. “Backwards. Please?”

Before getting into position, Bucky first pressed his lips against the two scars on Steve’s torso, just like he always did when he saw them. Whenever he did this, Steve sighed and gently held the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky glanced over his shoulder as he lowered himself onto Steve. He cried out a gasp when Steve thrusted up, latching his arm around his shoulders and pulling him down. Steve held him close and tight to his body as he moved in and out of him, softly saying his name over and over. Sweat clung to Bucky’s skin, mixing with Steve’s own slick body, and he groaned even more, the noise embarrassingly squeaky when Steve started sucking, kissing and nibbling on his ear. With his free hand, Steve reached around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky moaned with delight at him taking hold of his dick and stroking. 

“Oh...M’gonna...shit…” Bucky panted harder and harder. “Steve...I’m not gonna _last_ …”

That only spurred Steve on more, and he started moving faster and harder, clinging Bucky to his chest like their lives depended on their closeness. 

“Cum for me, baby,” He almost growled in his ear. “For me...please…”

It happened suddenly and hard, an orgasm shooting through Bucky’s entire body, making him tremble and cry out Steve’s name. He was still riding the sensation when he felt Steve’s body tense, his grip becoming impossibly tight around him. He stiffened with a grunt, smothering his face between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

“Uhh, Bucky…” He moaned. “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky…”

Steve’s thumb traced Bucky’s bottom lip, sending more chills through his body. Bucky opened his mouth to suck it in and when he did, Steve bit down on his shoulder just enough to make Bucky gasp. 

“Sorry,” He chuckled, kissing the spot his teeth had been. “You drive me crazy.”  
“Can’t help it,” Bucky said through a delighted smile. “I’m a natural.”  
“Mmm,” Steve cooed, fingers gently scratching across Bucky’s belly. “I can agree with that.” He kissed the side of his neck. “I guess you wore me down. Gotta go call Fury and tell ‘im I’m not coming in today.” 

Bucky carefully slid off of Steve and crawled back onto the bed, collapsing against his pillow, still spent and panting while Steve went to call out of work. He could hear him from the living room on the phone, and laughed when Steve attempted to fake a convincing cough. If Nick Fury bought that, he had no business being the captain. Still, Bucky grinned. Sure, Steve made sure to be the more responsible one, allowing Bucky some freedom-- _some_ though not too much--to be silly and carefree, but it tickled Bucky to his very core that he did, indeed, pamper him--just like he said he would. 

**Month Eleven**

“I think it’s time, Bucky.”

Bucky stared down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers and chewing on his lip. Anxiety turned his insides to lead. He peered up at Dr. Strange and sighed. 

“Why?” He asked. “Isn’t this fine?”

Never taking his eyes off of Bucky, Dr. Strange shook his head.

“For a little while, yes. But the transitional program is only temporary. The next step for you is Out Patient Treatment.” 

Ringing his hands, Bucky felt his face creasing with nerves and apprehension, even if he _had_ attempted to keep it cool. There was no point in trying to keep it from Dr. Strange anyway. He had a way of telling whenever Bucky was feeling uncertain or wary about something. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.  
“It’s just…” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “I like it there. I like the way things are now. I’m…”

When he trailed off, trying to figure out the right way to word this, Dr. Strange nodded like he understood.

“You’re comfortable.”  
“Yeah!” Bucky exclaimed. “That’s it. I’m comfortable.”  
“You’ve done great, Bucky,” He complimented. “You’ve excelled in the Trans program. You’re doing excellent in school, you’re coming four times a week to therapy, you continue to utilize your sponsor. You’ve proved that you can do this.”  
Bucky shook his head. “Yeah, but only with help. I don’t know…”  
“You won’t be completely on your own,” Dr. Strange assured him. “This is like another stepping stone. Same as when you went from residential treatment to transitional. You’re not going to be cut off from all your resources. You’ll come to therapy twice a week, still meet with Clint whenever you think you need to, you’re not coming off your prescriptions. The only things that will change is the _amount_ of therapy and there won’t be a staff wherever you go.” 

All the blood drained from Bucky’s face. He could feel it pooling in the pit of his belly, making him nauseous and sweaty. Go? Where was he supposed to go? Throwing a frantic look up at Dr. Strange, he got a reassuring show of his palm. 

“It’s okay, don’t panic,” He said softly. “We’ll help you find a place of your own, if that’s what you choose to do.”  
“I can choose what to do?”  
“Ultimately?” He nodded. “Yes. You’re going to need to start making decisions on your own. As far as where to live, there are assistance programs for recovering addicts and trauma survivors that will help with rent until you’re settled in a job. That’s if you go out on your own. You can always go back to your mom’s, or, maybe, someone _else_ would want you to move in.”

That meant Steve, Bucky knew it. He wasn’t positive if Dr. Strange made the suggestion just because he knew that’s where Bucky would _want_ to go, or because he genuinely thought it was a good idea. Unsure if what he felt was excitement at the idea or just more anxiety over it, Bucky sucked in a deep breath. The thought of living with Steve full time, permanently, falling asleep and waking next to him everyday, it made him delirious with glee. He felt like a little kid the day before his birthday. But the thought of having to ask Steve, talk to him about another possible milestone in their relationship, made him cold as ice. 

“What if he says no?” Bucky whispered.   
“That’s a good question.” Dr. Strange said. “So tell me. What happens if he says no?”

The thought of Steve saying no to his question of moving in together was shattering. Bucky was lightheaded and brokenhearted with the hypothetical itself. If it happened…?

Then again, if Steve said no...maybe Bucky would still survive. He’d survived Alex, didn’t he? It was still hard some days, downright unbearable others, and yet, most days things were good. 

“I could...I could live with my mom.”

He spoke it, but it came out more like a question. Dr. Strange nodded his head a little bit as though he was happy with that answer. 

“So, the world won’t end?”  
“Um…” He figured he should answer that as honestly as possible. “Yeah, it will. For a little while at least.”  
“Then what?”  
“I can...talk to you?”  
“Always. Go on,”  
“Uh, I have my mom. And I can still go to group, right?” He got a nod. Good. Bucky liked group. “I have school to finish. And maybe then college?”  
“If you still want to be a drug counselor that’s a good idea. Do you still want to be a drug counselor?”  
Bucky nodded. “Yes. I think so.”  
“All right then. So, if Steve says no, your life doesn’t fall apart?”

In one way, yes. In others…

“No. Not completely.”  
“You know what that tells me?” When Bucky shook his head, Dr. Strange grinned. “It tells me that your recovery is not based on your relationship with Steve.”  
“And that’s...good, right?”  
“Very good. Now, are you going to let your fear keep you from asking Steve?”

Bucky groaned. He’d almost forgotten that’s what got this conversation started. Only answering with a shrug, Bucky looked down at his lap again.

“When are you seeing him next?”  
“He’s here,” He said. “In the waiting room.”  
“No time like the present.”

A breath caught in Bucky’s throat. Now? He wanted him to ask now? Stomach freezing, Bucky felt the cold wash through him.

“But I…” There really was no excuse not to, none other than being afraid of Steve’s answer. “Will you come with me?”  
“Of course,” He responded with a bit of pride, like he was both pleased with Bucky’s decision and that Bucky trusted him enough that he asked for support. “But I’m not asking for you. _You_ need to do that.”

A slight whimper passed through Bucky’s lips. While he hadn’t intended on asking Dr. Strange to ask Steve for him, now that the option was void, he was even more nervous. Still, he nodded and the two of them headed out into the waiting room. 

Bucky was there for a private session with Dr. Strange off Refuge’s campus, so they were in his private office, which was located in a building shared with a pediatrician's office. When they stepped out into the waiting room, Bucky smiled at what he saw. 

There was Steve, sitting on the floor in front of the little table by all the toys, playing with a wire maze with two little kids. He was pushing the pieces around making train noises while the kids made narration for the imaginary passengers. For a moment, Bucky was quite content in just watching since no one had noticed he and Dr. Strange yet. His heart swelled with gratitude. Bucky had no idea what he’d done to make himself so lucky that he’d landed a guy like Steve. 

His stomach then turned when Dr. Strange cleared his throat, announcing their presence and officially putting an end to the little bubble Bucky put himself in watching Steve and the kids. Steve glanced over and grinned, staying right where he was. 

“Hey,” He said, eyes lighting up like seeing Bucky was the highlight of the moment, even though they’d been together not an hour ago.   
“Steve,” Dr. Strange placed his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “Bucky has something he’d like to ask you.”

At that, they had Steve’s full attention. He thanked the two kids for letting him play with them and got to his feet, wiping his hands together as he came over. That look was still on his face though, the one that made Bucky feel like he was the most important thing in the world to Steve. He still didn’t understand it. 

“What’s up?” He wondered. “You can ask me anything, Buck. You know that.”  
“Why don’t we step back into my office?” Dr. Strange suggested. 

They moved back into the private room, away from other ears and Steve sat down in the chair next to Bucky’s. It was quiet for a while, everyone waiting for Bucky to start. Bucky could only look at his fingers he constantly played with. 

“Bucky?” Steve finally broke the silence. “Is everything okay?”

His voice sent a little jolt of nerves through his body. Bucky glanced over at him. 

“Uh, well, we were…talking about…um…”  
“We were discussing Bucky entering the Out Patient program and the options of his living arrangements.” Dr. Strange got that part out for him.

Steve nodded, and was still doing so when he turned his attention back to Bucky. 

“Okay?”  
“And I, um…” Bucky was tripping all over his words. _Just say it. Just ask. Get it over with_. “I thought, well, I was wondering if maybe…can I…” His voice dropped to a whisper, “maybe move in with you?”

Bucky peered through his lashes up at Steve. His mouth had opened slightly, like he was about to say something and then changed his mind. 

“Oh, um, Bucky…”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky interrupted. It was easier to deal with it when he hadn’t actually _heard_ the no come out. “It’s fine…” He said, even though he felt the total opposite of fine. “I’ll just move in with…”  
“Bucky,” Steve interrupted with something of a chuckle. “I didn’t say no.”  
“...Oh...but…”  
“It’s just, I put my house up for sale last week cause…”  
“You’re moving?” Bucky’s breaths started to back up on him, his pulse speeding up in the process. “Are you leaving the city? Where are…”  
“Bucky,” Dr. Strange said. “You’re panicking. Take in a deep breath.”

He did just that and when he was focused on Steve again, he saw the worried expression on his face. 

“I’m not leaving, baby,” He murmured. “I just…” Steve’s cheeks suddenly flushed deeply. “I, wow, I probably should have discussed this with you first.”  
“Discussed what?”  
“Well, I put my house up for sale cause I figured,” Steve glanced away like he was embarrassed. “I just figured if maybe you wanted to live together you might see moving in with me like you were living in _my_ home. And I, uh, well I didn’t want that. I want to have a home _with_ you.”  
“With me?” Confusion swirled through Bucky’s mind. “I don’t understand.”  
Steve glanced back up and took his hand. “I thought we could buy a place together. Yours _and_ mine.”  
“But you love your house.”  
“Well, yeah...but I love you more.” Steve reached out and put his hand on his shoulder.  
“I...but I don’t have a job. I can’t help…”  
“As far as I’m concerned your only job is to stay healthy, go to school, volunteer at the Youth Center, and then we’ll see about you getting a job.”  
“So you just wanna buy a place with me?”  
“No, Bucky, I don’t just want to buy a place with you. I want to make a home with you. Will you do that with me, Bucky? Make a home?”

Bucky looked at Dr. Strange as a smile crept up on his face. Dr. Strange gave him a nod and when he snapped his gaze back over at Steve, he bounced a little in his seat.

“When can we look at places?” He started asking. “Can we go now? Are we gonna look at apartments, condos, houses? Can we get a dog? Oh please, Steve, I always wanted a dog!”

Bucky continued on rambling possibilities for the two of them. Really, it didn’t matter if anyone of them panned out. All Bucky cared about was that he would be living with Steve. The two of them, together.


	47. 2nd to Last One of All of These

Turned out Steve was up for house hunting in all his spare time. He picked up Bucky whenever he could and they’d meet up with the real estate agent--Sue Storm--to go looking at places she thought fit them best. Steve had suggested looking at places between his current house and Bucky’s mom’s place.

“That way you can be closer.” He said. “Is that all right with you?”

Bucky couldn’t get over how wonderful Steve was. He was finally starting to accept it though, accept that Steve was just always genuinely Steve. 

Within six weeks of searching, looking at condos and townhouses and single family homes, Bucky absolutely fell in love with a little, two story cape. It was _nothing_ like Alex’s. The place had two small bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, and a living room that opened to the dining room with a little kitchen off of it and down the hall was the master bedroom and main bathroom. There was a finished basement and a backyard with a pool and everything. When Bucky caught sight of the pool, he knew he needed to have the place. Before he got a chance to even _say_ anything about it, Steve pulled him close to his chest. 

“You like this place.” Steve murmured into his ear. “I told Sue to put an offer in.”

Bucky closed his eyes, a contented grin pulling up his lips. He tried not to get his hopes up, since he knew it wasn’t smart to do that--they might not get it, after all--but he just couldn’t help it. 

“I love you.” Bucky sighed. 

As luck would have it, they got the house, and moved in three weeks later.

Living with Steve was hands down the best decision Bucky ever made. He knew it, knew it deep down in his gut. And _he_ had made that decision, the decision to live with him. Even if in the beginning it was a bit of a struggle. After spending so much of his life with Alex, living with someone else rather than on his own saw Bucky falling back in his old routine of things. He continuously defaulted to Steve for nearly everything. Whenever Bucky wanted to do something, whether it was to go out with some of the friends he made in school or just to go to the store, he would ask Steve if he could beforehand. When he and Steve would go out, Bucky would follow Steve’s lead. He’d ask him what to wear, ask him if it was okay to order what he wanted to order, stay by his side until he was told it was okay to wander about. Bucky had lived under the thumb of someone else for so long that it just felt normal to let someone else call the shots and he wasn’t even fully aware that he was doing it. 

Then Steve started doing things differently. “Do your homework” changed to “Do you have homework to get done?” Any time Bucky asked permission for something, he would reply with “Is that what _you_ want to do?” and just leave it at that. He started asking Bucky his preferences for almost everything. “Do you want waffles or pancakes?” wouldn’t be resolved in “Whatever you want.” Steve made him choose. Requests became more suggestions. Shopping duty suddenly fell to Bucky. They’d go together, but Steve had Bucky make the list, Bucky pick what little things they needed around the house, and left Bucky in charge of the budget.

Gradually, Bucky picked up the habit of doing all those things on his own. He no longer felt obligated to do something when Steve asked him to. He did it because he wanted to do it for Steve. Rather than asking for permission to go out, Bucky would ask if he minded. On the rare occasion that Steve _did_ mind, it was usually just because he wanted to spend time with him, or he just thought it was a bad idea on a school night. He never, not once, told Bucky he wasn’t allowed to go out. He chose for himself what he wanted to wear and eat and picked out groceries and cooked dinner and eventually it felt natural to make decisions both for himself and _with_ Steve. 

They went out a lot together, whether to the movies or to dinner or even sometimes to clubs for dancing. Bucky still loved to dance. Steve was still pretty bad at it. But that never seemed to deter Steve from wanting to go with him. He’d join him on the dance floor sometimes, and never failed to make Bucky laugh with his two left feet. When Steve didn’t join him on the floor, he said he liked to watch him out there, moving with other people, getting sweaty and flirty, and then being able to go home with him, both buzzing with vigor and energy, and ending up in a sloppy mess. 

When they weren’t going out, they’d curl up together in bed or on the couch having movie nights or binge watching shows. Bucky would cook them dinner, elaborate meals that he learned both with help from the staff of the Trans program and on his own. Steve told him his cooking skills were far superior to his own. Other times they’d share nights in silence, Steve drawing, Bucky reading, both perfectly content in each other’s company. 

Things weren’t perfect. They had their share of arguments of course. There were times Bucky would be so overwhelmed with anger--usually forming to mask fear or uncertainty--that he would just start yelling. They’d come to a mutual agreement that if either of them asked for a time out, everything came to a stop. Both of them would walk away, going their separate ways until they calmed down. It was Bucky that usually sought out Steve first, since he was the one who popped his top more often, though the mood swings were getting better. Part of that was due to Steve’s patience and understanding. 

Several times during the first month, Bucky felt himself closing off and wanting to run away. Old insecurities, namely the thought that Steve couldn’t possibly really love him and would leave him any minute, resurfaced, and Bucky began pushing away again. It was Steve who came up with an idea to help with it. Whenever Bucky was feeling scared or lonely or lost or anything that made him think those negative thoughts, all he had to do was open his arms and Steve would stop doing whatever he was doing to return the gesture. Bucky was then free to step into a hug and stay like that for however long he wanted. It was so comforting, so grounding that sometimes Bucky would hold onto him for an hour or even more, and Steve never tried to rush him away. So far, Steve hadn’t denied him one hug yet. 

When he was approaching the year mark, Bucky found himself a mix of emotions. On one hand, he started having nightmares again. The time of year, the smell in the air, the summer sun--it all had him remembering, in vivid detail sometimes, everything that had happened. On the other hand, he felt an unbelievable sense of relief. Bucky had made it. He’d gone a full year without Alex, without his approval, without his permission for things. There was real love in his life, affection that was _never_ withheld, support and encouragement, and though there were still times it was all very overwhelming, Bucky was believing in himself.

***

Today was a special day. It marked fifteen months. A year and three months officially down. Ever since passing that one year mark, Bucky tended to take note of the date. Sometimes it triggered him, other times it was a relief. Today was a bit of both.

Bucky was down in the basement, in the laundry room specifically. He was tending to a gift Clint had brought over. Okay, so it wasn’t so much a gift since he hadn’t particularly intended on leaving it there with Bucky, but Bucky still knew how to work people over every now and then. Clint had rolled his eyes when Bucky had given him a whiny plead, fingers laced and knuckles pressed to his chin, asking to keep it. He smiled too, like he was trying not to but couldn’t help it.

“You’re too much, kid.” Clint sighed. “Yeah, fine.”  
“Yes!” Bucky punched the air and lunged forward to hug him. “Thank you! You’re awesome.”  
“Ain’t it the truth?” Bucky could hear the smile in his voice as Clint pat his back. “But if Rogers yells at me about this at _all_ the blame is going on you, got it?”

Bucky pulled away, big grin on his face and nodded.

“Got it. Don’t worry about Steve. I’ll figure something out. He won’t be mad at you.”

Clint had been over because Steve had an earlier shift and was at work. He’d be off the rest of the week, but Bucky had been feeling a little out of sorts in the morning so Clint had stopped by to keep him company for a while. Being off from school for summer vacation, Bucky spent some more time volunteering at the Youth Center, and was now even earning a certification on how to interact with minors with addiction problems. He couldn’t be a drug counselor yet, not without first finishing high school and then going through several steps to become licensed, but he was already promised letters of recommendations from those who ran the Youth Center. 

He had taken off this week though, at Steve’s suggestion. Steve thought it’d be nice to have a vacation at home together. “You deserve it, baby.” he had said. Bucky couldn’t wait.

Once Clint had gone, Bucky stayed in the basement and was so preoccupied with what he was doing that he hadn’t paid any attention to the time. 

“Bucky?”

Steve’s voice calling out for him and the sounds of his footsteps coming down the stairs startled him. He hopped up and darted out of the laundry room, quickly shutting the door behind him. 

“Steve!” He exclaimed and rattled his head. There was nothing stoic about him at all and that was not the way to go about doing this. “You’re, uh, you’re home early.”

Steve had stopped in the middle of the stairs and eyed Bucky curiously. Bucky had been trying to hold back the grin, one both happy and nervous, but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. 

“No,” Steve replied with a tilt of his head. “I’m right on time actually.”  
“Oh…” He couldn’t figure out anything to say that would fix that. “Well, hi!”

The look on Steve’s face was playful, but it was suspicious at the same time. He slowly came down the rest of the steps and strolled up to Bucky. 

“Hi,” He said lowly. “What’s going on?”  
“What? Nothing. Why would something be going on?”

A smirk curled up on Steve’s lips and he shook his head. With a lick of his teeth, he reached out to place his hand on the side of Bucky’s neck.

“Nothing?” He questioned, his voice soft as velvet and somehow mischievous at the same time. “Then why do you look so nervous, Mr. Barnes? Why do you look like you have something to hide?”

Apparently Detective Rogers had come out to play. Or he never went away after Steve had left work. There was very little Bucky could do to resist Steve when he slipped into his work persona. He was just so intense and somewhat intimidating, but still the very same Steve Bucky fell in love with. It made butterflies flap around his belly.

“I…well…”  
“And it seems to me that you’re trying to keep me out of the laundry room.”  
“What makes you think that?” Bucky played along.  
“Maybe the fact that the door is closed,” He hovered over him and leaned his hand against the doorframe. “And you’re holding onto the doorknob like you’d do anything to keep me from getting in there.”  
“Well…it’s just…”

Before Bucky could finish his statement, not that he’d come up with something to say anyway, there was a crash from inside of the laundry room. Bucky squeezed his eyes closed when Steve tilted his head again, running his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. 

“What’d ya do, Bucky?” He wondered. 

Opening just one eye, Bucky watched Steve lift his eyebrows before the other opened. He bounced a little and let out a whimper. 

“Okay, Steve, it...I know we said we wouldn’t do anything without asking the other and that we would make decisions together and Dr. Strange said that was a good idea and I know that this kinda goes against it and I didn’t mean to, it sorta just…” Bucky stopped and took a deep breath, “sorta just happened and…”

He shut up when Steve curled his index finger at him, asking him to move away from the door. Bucky pushed his lips out in a pout as he did what Steve requested. Placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, Steve guided him away from the door. He had his eyes on him the whole time until he actually went into the room and stopped short. 

“Bucky!”  
“Don’t freak out!” Bucky exclaimed. “You don’t have to do anything, I swear! I’ll…”  
Steve spun around, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “You got a _dog_?!”  
“No, no! I…well…Clint…” Aw, hell, this wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. “Clint brought it over. Not for us, just…” He scratched his head and stole a glance at the little black and white puppy wagging its tail at him. “Clint said he thinks it’s part staffordshire terrier, part pitbull. He said he thinks its about twelve weeks old.”

Steve lowered his head while rubbing his eyes, a sort of sigh escaping his lips. When he looked back up there was a pursed grin on his lips. But he didn’t say anything. 

“Please, Steve?” Bucky asked. “Please, can we keep it? You won’t have to do anything, I swear! I’ll take care of everything, I promise! Really!”

Giving Steve a moment to think it over, Bucky bit down on his lip. But Steve _still_ didn’t say anything. He just kept giving Bucky that amused look.

“Steve! Say something!”

Steve laughed and turned to look at the dog, who started waddling over to him. The dog licked Steve’s hand so he pet its head. 

“Can we, Steve? Pl-lea-se?”  
“I tell you what,” Steve started as he looked back at him. “We keep it on a few conditions.”  
Bucky nodded quickly. “What conditions?”  
Steve held a finger up. “One, _you_ get it to the vet.” Bucky whined a little. Steve knew how much he hated having to set up appointments, even if it was something Dr. Strange said he needed to learn how to do better on his own. Still, he nodded in acceptance, and Steve held up another finger. “Two, you _finally_ agree to having Tony and Pepper over for dinner.”

With a roll of his head, Bucky let out an anxious moan. While he’d been in Tony Stark’s presence before, it was always in a crowd, a place where Bucky could keep quiet and not make a fool of himself. Steve had been _aching_ to change that.

“Anything else?” He asked. 

Steve shook his head. 

“That’s it.” He extended his hand out. “Deal?”

Grin returning, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand to shake it. 

“Deal!”  
“Wanna know a secret?” Steve asked, still shaking his hand.   
“What?”  
“I’d’ve said yes anyway.”

Bucky rolled his eyes when Steve winked. Steve then glanced over at all the cans scattered on the floor. The dog had knocked them off the shelves they kept canned and dried foods on. He shook his head and went over to it. 

“Look at this, already making a mess.”

When he crouched down to pick it all up, the dog pranced over, slipping a bit on the tiled floor, and began licking his face and trying to get Steve to play. 

“Hey, no! Wait!” Steve yelped as he attempted to put the cans back on the bottom shelf, but the dog grabbed it instead. “Give that back!”

Bucky laughed as he stood back and watched Steve trying to wrestle the can out of the dog’s mouth. Steve fell onto his backside and when he did, the puppy dropped the can and jumped onto him.

“Ugh,” Steve grunted. “You’re nothing but trouble already.”  
“Steve?” Bucky murmured. 

As soon as Steve looked over, Bucky held his arms open. Steve smiled and stood up, holding his arms out to him in return. Bucky tucked his chin in and moved in to get his hug. He sighed happily when he was in Steve’s embrace, holding onto him tightly and nuzzling against his chest. 

“You weren’t mad, were you, Stevie?”

Steve chuckled. 

“Of course not, baby.” He had his chin resting on Bucky’s head and gave him an affectionate squeeze, but, as per their agreement, didn’t let go. Bucky hummed slightly as he breathed out contently. “We need to think of a name for this guy, huh?”

Still swathed in Steve’s arms, Bucky smiled and looked up at him. He loved the look in Steve’s eyes when they were positioned like this. They were almost brighter, and had an adoring twinkle in them. 

“Actually, it’s a she.” He told him.   
“Ah,” Steve glanced over to where she was chewing on the side of the washing machine. “So what’re we gonna call her?”

There was a name floating around in Bucky’s head, but now that he had to come out and say it, he was feeling kind of silly about it. 

“Well, I, uh, I had something in mind.” He admitted. “It’s sorta stupid but…what about…Hope?”  
“Hope?”

Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah. Hope. It’s…what I feel most of the time now.” He glanced down at the dog, now circling around their legs. “It’s what I feel when I look at her. So then, maybe on bad days, looking at her will remind me of that.”  
“Then Hope it is.”

The enthusiasm in which Steve answered with made Bucky deliriously happy. He looked away from the dog, from Hope, _their_ dog, and up at Steve. Letting go of their embrace, Bucky moved up on his toes to kiss him.

“Thank you, Steve.” He whispered softly. 

Steve put a hand at the side of Bucky’s face. Closing his eyes, Bucky leaned against the touch, one of his favorite way’s Steve held him. 

“For what?” Steve asked. 

Bucky shrugged. 

“For…everything.” He said. “For being you, for loving me, for never giving up on me, for believing in me.”

Steve shook his head. 

“No, see, you got it all wrong.” He replied. “I was missing something before I met you. I didn’t know it, not really. So thank _you_ for being _you_. Thank _you_ for not giving up and believing in yourself. Thank _you_ for letting me love you. And thank _you_ for loving me.”

Gently removing Steve’s hand from his cheek, Bucky brought his fingers up to his mouth to kiss them. 

“I love you, Stevie.”

Steve turned his hand over so that he could take hold of Bucky’s.

“I love you, Bucky.” He pulled him in and threw his arm around his shoulders, guiding them back upstairs. “Now come on. _You_ need to call a vet, well, maybe call Barton first to get a recommendation, which I’m _sure_ he’ll have, and then we can go get some stuff for this lovely lady.”

Hope was trotting up the stairs in front of them, tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, and kept looking behind her as if checking to make sure they were following. Bucky smiled at her, but Steve let out a hearty laugh.

“Your daddies are right behind you, Hopey.” He said.

Bucky filled up with so much love he could feel the heat running through him. He thought he might even fly away with it. 

Upstairs, Bucky did as he said he would and first gave Clint a ring to get the name of a decent and reliable vet.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Clint mumbled.  
“No,” Bucky laughed. “Steve loves me too much to say no anyway.”

From at the sink, Steve threw him a look. Bucky stuck his tongue out at him as Clint gave him the name and number of a vet. He then went on to give him advice on what food to buy, what sort of collar, that they should get a harness, and several other things on training. Bucky tried to write it all down, but with the speed and excitement Clint was using, he was sure he missed some. 

After he finished with Clint, Bucky meticulously wrote out everything he wanted to say to the vet’s office. It made him slightly less nervous. He didn’t know what it was about having to set appointments that worried him so much. Something about it made him think the person on the other end was going to yell at him for something, or think he was stupid. He often stumbled over his words, his heart would pound and sometimes he’d even shake the whole time. Writing things down helped him focus a little more. And whenever Steve was with him, he’d stay close, this time taking to rubbing his shoulders the whole time he was on the phone. When he was finished, Hope was all set up to go the following morning to get her first check up and round of vaccines. 

“Done!” Bucky stated proudly, holding up the paper he’d written everything down on.

Steve had to jerk back a bit as to not get hit by his hand when he flung it up in the air like that since he was still rubbing his shoulders. He laughed and took the paper from him.

“Good job, baby.” Steve complimented as he added the paper to the fridge door, among various tests that Bucky had aced. “Come on. Grab Hope and let’s go to the pet store to get stuff for her.”  
“Yes!” Bucky pulled his elbow in and hopped up.

At the same time Hope jumped to her feet and started dancing around the two of them. Bucky scooped her up into his arms and laughed as she began licking his face. 

“Oof,” He grunted with a chuckle, trying to keep his face away from her. “Cut it out, you!”  
“You coming?” Steve called from the door. “Or are you just gonna make out with your new girlfriend?”

Bucky laughed and headed out of the kitchen towards the door where Steve was waiting. He put his arm around Bucky’s waist as they went to the car and Bucky was grinning from ear to ear. 

They had bought a hell of a lot more than they planned on. Even though Bucky was still in charge of calculating the budget for shopping, Steve was too cute to not break it. Everything they passed in the store, with Hope wagging her tail and continuously trying to hop out of the cart, Steve said they just _had_ to have. Hope needed to have the prettiest pink dish with her name engraved on it. Her water bowl had to come with a water cooler on it because “We can’t risk her running out of water!” And Bucky just couldn’t argue. Steve picked out the nicest--and most expensive--bed for her, and a pink collar with personalized tags. Bucky cracked up when Steve hopped up and down with excitement when he found the harness and leash that _matched_ the collar he picked out. 

“Not everything has to be pink, Steve.” Bucky pointed out. “Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean we need to force society’s gender norms on her.”

Steve practically stumbled over his feet when he skidded to a stop. He turned around with his hands on his hips, an impressed and surprised look on his face.

“Are you making fun of me?”  
Bucky held back a laugh and pinched his fingers together. “Just a little.”  
“Well, just wait if we ever have a little girl,” He said absently. “You think I spoil _you_?” Steve blew a soft raspberry. “You haven’t seen anything. But we’ll dress her according to her personality.”

For a moment, Bucky just stared at him. Then, Steve’s words must have fully reached his mind and he blushed, lowering his chin. Instead of saying anything, he just turned around and kept walking. Bucky hustled after them, big, cheesy smile on his face.

“That something you think about, Stevie?” Bucky wondered, only half teasing. “Having kids?”

Bucky could never get over just how adorable Steve was when he got all bashful and awkward. 

“Uh…maybe.”

They were quiet for a moment, walking down the aisle and not paying all that much attention to the merchandise. 

“I like the name Emily.” Bucky murmured.

The second he voiced it, Bucky looked down, probably feeling the same awkwardness as Steve felt. His stomach twisted when he knew Steve looked at him. 

“Yeah?”

Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah.” His voice lowered even more. “Emily Sarah.”

They kept walking, but Bucky didn’t look at Steve when he said that, especially not when Steve got quiet. 

“I like that.” He whispered back a minute later. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

When they got back, needing to have some of their items delivered since it would all fit in the car, the two of them laughed and bickered and bantered over where everything should go. Bucky wanted the bowls on one side of the kitchen. Steve wanted them on the other. Bucky wanted all the toys to stay inside. Steve said they should split them up; half inside, half outside. Bucky wanted the bed to go in the living room. Steve wanted it to go in their bedroom. Not that it mattered, Hope ended up at the foot of their bed that night anyway. 

“Know what, Steve?” Bucky asked while the laid in bed together, bodies pressed up to each other and legs tangled.   
“What’s that, Bucky?”  
“I’m happy.”

Steve moved up a bit, scooting over so he could prop himself up with his elbow, leaning over Bucky as he did. He let his fingers trace circles over Bucky’s stomach and smiled at him.   
“Yeah?” He kissed him.   
Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I was really nervous about today and how I would feel. This morning I thought about Alex a lot, the bad things. But, in a weird way, if it wasn’t for Alex, I wouldn’t be here now. Here and happy. It’s like what I talk about with Dr. Strange, there’s still gonna be bad times cause that’s life. But…right now? I’m happy. I’m just happy. I’m happy about school, I’m happy about volunteering, I’m happy with you. I feel good, and strong, like I can do anything. I’m happy. I’m so happy.”

Steve lowered his head so that their brows pressed together. A tear of his fell onto Bucky’s face and he sniffled. 

“Thank you for letting me be a part of your happiness, Bucky.” He whispered. 

Tears still sliding down his cheeks, Bucky reached up and wiped them away. He leaned his chin up so that he could meet Steve’s lips with his own. 

“Don’t cry, Stevie. Please?”

Steve let out a tearful laugh and kissed Bucky’s nose.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I just wanted you to be happy for so long and now you are and I love you, Bucky, and _I’m_ so happy.”

Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, Bucky pulled Steve closer so that they could kiss, a long and passionate kiss, until Steve laughed through it and rolled them so that Bucky would be above him. Bucky grinned down at him, brushing the leftover tears away and just took a moment to fully take in everything about him. Steve loved him, really _truly_ loved him and only ever wanted him to be happy. The adoring look in his eyes still hadn’t faded. Bucky was succeeding, not that he hadn’t stumbled a few times, but he was succeeding. He tucked himself into Steve’s arms, the latter humming softly as they got comfortable with Hope there with them.

And Bucky was happy.

Curled up in Steve’s arms, Bucky was simply happy.


	48. Last Chapter 48. I can't this is 48 chapters long

From through the sliding glass doors that led to the deck they added on earlier in the summer, Steve could see Bucky at the kitchen counter. Hope, who had doubled in size already, sat at his feet, her tail wagging quickly behind her. Since Bucky kept glimpsing down at the dog, Steve knew just what was going to happen. He quietly opened the door and crept up behind him. Just as Bucky was about to toss Hope a piece of food, Steve snatched him up in his arms. 

“Stop feeding the dog like that!” He exclaimed, earning a yelp and a laugh from Bucky.   
“Holy shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You scared me.”

Steve had his chin resting on Bucky’s shoulder and saw that he was making macaroni salad. 

“Then mission accomplished.” Steve snickered and kissed the side of his neck. “You spoil that dog too much.”  
“Oh, like you don’t.”

Bucky had gone back to what he was doing, adding a bit of black pepper and stirring the bowl. Having Steve pinning his upper arms to his sides didn’t seem to deter him from getting his task done. 

“Not like I spoil you.” Steve murmured. 

He could tell that made Bucky smile. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He said. “So stop yelling at me when _you’re_ the one spoiling _two_ of us.”  
“Oh that’s how it is?” Steve teased and immediately starting tickling his sides. 

Bucky jerked back with a gasp, dropping the spoon he was using to the floor and wiggled to get free.

“Steve!” He laughed. “I need...no!”

Steve laughed along with him, and with Bucky struggling to get away, they ended up wrestling around on the floor, Hope jumping around them both. He had Bucky pinned down under him, Steve’s hands ticking him under his neck.

“Come on, Hope, get ‘im.” He egged her on. 

Butt in the air, Hope lunged forward and alternated between licking Bucky’s face and nibbling his arms. 

“Hope! No!” Bucky pleaded with the dog through his laughs. “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”  
“Uh-ah,” Steve challenged. “She knows it’s better to be on my side!”  
“No way!” he yelped and shimmied out of Steve’s grip enough that he got himself seated upright. 

He pounced at Steve and they rolled around on the kitchen floor, sometimes Steve tickling Bucky, sometimes Bucky tickling Steve, until someone cleared their throat. They froze instantly, Bucky’s back pressed up against Steve’s chest, his arm up in the air with Steve’s arm keeping it that way. 

Wendy stood just a few feet from them, hands on her hips and toes tapping on the floor. Steve gave her an impish smirk, still keeping Bucky in the position, though Bucky was no longer trying to get out of it. 

“Hi,” Steve said.   
“Steven Grant Rogers, I asked you to get the tablecloth,” She reminded him.   
He stuck his lower lip out. “M’sorry, Mom.”

Wendy was so much like his own mother, so caring and nurturing, and that much of a hardass as well that he’d slipped once a few months ago and called her Mom instead of her name. His cheeks filled with a blush and he looked away, but Wendy hadn’t commented on it at all. She just resumed the conversation like what he’d done was perfectly normal. Steve called her mom ever since then. It made him feel good, it seemed to honor Wendy, and Bucky flat out loved it. 

“But it was Bucky’s fault anyway.”   
“ _What_?!” Bucky shrieked and started wiggling around again. “No way!”

Steve laughed as they tumbled over. That actually gave him an advantage again and he continued digging his fingers into Bucky’s sides. 

“Mommy!” Bucky yelped. “Make him stop! Ple-ee-aase!”

Wendy marched over and knelt behind Bucky’s head, scooping him up into her arms. Once she was over, Steve stopped what he was doing and laughed as Bucky scrambled into her embrace. He stuck his tongue out at Steve.

“Oh, my little baby,” Wendy cooed. “Is he tickling you? He’s not doing it right though, is he?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, his eyes showed all the signs of being betrayed, and before he could even voice his shock, Wendy started rubbing her knuckles into the back of his neck.

“No! Mom!” He squealed. “Mommy! How could you?!”  
“See, Steve,” She said when she stopped. “ _That’s_ how you tickle this one.”

Bucky seemed quite conflicted. His mom, who he thought would _save_ him from Steve, had done the opposite. 

“I hate you both.” He mumbled, pulling his legs into his arms and sulking. 

Hope pranced up to him and started licking his face and no matter how strong his resolve was to sit there and pout, Bucky started laughing. When Steve got up, he hovered over him so he could help him to his feet. Bucky peered up at him, and Steve still couldn’t get over just how charming and adorable he was when he looked at him like that. Once he was on his feet, Bucky’s expression seemed nervous and doubtful. 

“I...I don’t really hate you.” He said very softly, eyes moving from them to his feet.

Before anyone could reply, Bucky held his arms out to the sides. Steve smiled and opened his arms for him, wrapping them around Bucky when he stepped into them. 

“We know, sweetie,” Wendy assured him.   
“It’s okay to joke around, remember?” Steve told him. 

He felt Bucky’s head move with nod against his chest. 

“I know. I just...I get...scared sometimes.”  
“That’s okay,” Steve comforted. “We understand.”  
“Come on, hon,” Wendy put her on his shoulder. “Come set the table with me outside.”

Bucky moved away from Steve and shook his head. 

“No, I have to finish the macaroni salad first,” He said. “Cause _someone_ interrupted me.”

Steve crinkled his nose at him and thought for a second that Wendy was going to suggest him help her before finishing the salad. Instead, she nodded and got the tablecloth Steve had initially come into the house to fetch for her. She must have remembered how important it was for Bucky to be able to deny someone, something he still had trouble with every now and then.

As Bucky went back to preparing the macaroni salad, with Hope immediately assuming her seated position at his feet, Steve leaned against the doorframe to just watch him. After just a minute, the temptation was too much, and he quietly grabbed his sketchbook off the dining room table. There was a pencil already in it and Steve started drawing Bucky at the counter. He might have been a little biased, but in Steve’s opinion, Bucky was the most beautiful person in the world. 

Right now, standing there in a pair of swim trunks, tight white t-shirt, hair disheveled from their little scuffle and the sun pouring in through the kitchen window, Bucky looked like an angel. He wiped a stray hair away from his face and a shiver ran down Steve’s spine. Quickly moving the tip of his pencil across the paper, he tried to capture the moment before it was actually over. It was when Steve was drawing his mouth that he realized Bucky was grinning while he worked. 

That made something warm and calming run through his veins, making him buzz with happiness. Nothing was going on, other then them preparing for a Bar Ba Que, but Bucky was just standing there, making macaroni salad, and smiling as he did. Today was a good day. Yesterday was a good day. The week before was all good days. The month before was full of good days. Good days were the norm now. 

Bucky still had his bad days of course. He still panicked sometimes, forgot to breathe, slipped under the bed to feel safe. Which is why Steve made sure to get a bed with a high, raised mattress. He never wanted Bucky to be without that safe place. When days got rough, Bucky sometimes let Steve help him through them rather than shutting him out. Other times he didn’t, like he was determined to handle it on his own. Those were actually the hardest days for Steve, the days that Bucky wouldn’t allow him to help. Determined to make Bucky’s life as comfortable as possible, Steve hated when he saw him struggling and refused his assistance. 

“Always been like that.” Wendy told him. “At least, when he was little, even as a baby. Learning to walk? He would actually throw a tantrum if I tried to hold him up. When he wanted to do something on his own, that was it. He was determined to prove that he could.”

More recently, any bad day he had took a bigger toll on Steve than it did Bucky. It was just so hard to know that he was suffering on his own, even though he was right there. Since he knew Bucky didn’t want to be coddled--not at those times anyway, most every other time Bucky _loved_ to be coddled--Steve needed to learn to back off and just let him do what he needed to do. It made him feel a _little_ better when he learned that sometimes he went and talked with Sam. Though Sam might not have been familiar with the trauma Bucky had gone through, he’d learned techniques and methods to help Bucky through the rough patches. By the time Bucky was okay again, which usually never took more than a day or two, Steve was a mess, and Bucky sometimes had to comfort him. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, it seemed to make him happy. Not because Steve was a mess, but that he was able to offer the comfort he needed. 

“Are you drawing me?” Bucky suddenly asked, his attention still on the bowl he was now mixing up.   
“Sh,” Steve chuckled. “Don’t move. You’ll ruin it.”

Bucky smirked, peeking over at him from the corner of his eye. 

“You don’t have enough?”  
“Never.”

It only took a few more minutes for Steve to get that quick, rough sketch. Bucky had finished what he was doing before he was done, but stayed still for Steve’s sake. 

“Can I see this one?”  
“I let you see all of them.” Steve laughed.   
“Not _all_ of them.” He whined. “You have that one hidden in the closet that you won’t let me see.”  
“I will when it’s _done_. Have _patience_.”  
Bucky jerked his knee. “I have plenty of patience. You just take too long.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he turned the sketchbook around so that Bucky could see it. As always, Bucky looked surprised that he was the subject matter of the drawing and grazed his fingers along it. 

“It’s beautiful.” He breathed.   
“Well, I had a beautiful model.”

Instead of answering with a sassy, arrogant comment like he normally did, Bucky just smiled and leaned in to kiss him. 

When the doorbell rang seconds later, Hope went crazy. She started barking and ran to it the door.

“You wanna go help your mom?” Steve suggested. “I’ll let the circus in?”

Laughing, Bucky kissed him again and headed off to do just that. Steve waited to answer the door so he could watch Bucky walk through the kitchen. 

“Stop checking me out, beautiful!” He called out just as he reached the back door.

Steve rolled his head back, feeling his cheeks warm just as the doorbell rang again. Hope started barking once more and ran back and forth from the door to the kitchen. 

At the door was Sam--who had a case of beer and a plate of cookies--Natasha and Clint. Behind them, and just coming up the walk were Sharon, Maria and Fury. Just pulling over to park was Tony and Pepper. 

“Well _that_ took long enough.” Clint mumbled.   
“Sorry, Barton,” Steve grinned. “I was preoccupied.”  
“Ugh, I hope we’re not hearing about your sex life.”   
“Hey,” Sam said as they all started coming in. “ _You’re_ the one who had to be a smartass, Barton.”  
“ _Yeah_.” Steve responded, sticking his chin out.

Not that it mattered. Clint was already on the floor playing with Hope. 

“I think you boyfriend is rubbing off on you, Rogers.” Fury commented, handing Steve an apple pie. “Homemade and everything.”

Natasha was maneuvering around Clint and the dog to greet Steve, but when Bucky appeared through the dining room, she abandoned her quest to say hello to Steve, (“I see you all the time,” she mumbled) and sauntered over to Bucky instead. She had her fingers out and spread apart, and Bucky grinned widely as he tilted his head. As soon as she reached him, she ran her fingers through his hair. The two of them shared a special connection. Natasha was able to relate to Bucky in a way that no one else could. So was Clint. And Sam. In fact, each member of his team, of Steve’s family, helped Bucky in those few areas that he couldn’t help him with, not through personal experience anyway. 

From on the floor with the dog, Clint started signing something to Bucky. Bucky blushed and peeked over at Steve before signing back. Whatever he said made Clint crack up. 

“Hey!” Sharon said, shifting a big bowl of sliced watermelon to her other hand. “You better not be talking about me.”  
“Well, maybe if you took the time to learn how to sign like Barnes did, it wouldn’t be a problem.” Clint said.  
Maria scoffed. “You keep telling us _not_ to. Obviously you _like_ talking to Barnes without us knowing what’s going on.”  
“Well, you _could_ look it up,” Bucky murmured.   
“Hey,” Maria said sharply. “Are you being a smartass?”   
“Maybe.” He chuckled, eyes closed as Natasha continued running her fingers through his hair. 

While Steve loved to be the one combing through his soft, luscious locks--turning Bucky on in the process--the look on Bucky’s face when Natasha did it was worth not being the one to do it. He always looked like a cat, leaning in and moving his head enough to get her to get the spot he wanted her to pet. Seeing how Natasha loved to tease him she clearly got a kick out of it as well. 

“All right then,” Maria said back. “We’ll see how much Sharon and I help you with your school work when your next term starts.”

Bucky opened his eyes and pouted at her. Even someone as hard and tough as Maria wasn’t invulnerable to Bucky’s puppy look and she laughed.

“Come on, come on,” Sam grabbed Clint by the back of the shirt to pull him up. “Let’s get this party started. I wanna hit that pool.”  
“Don’t _hit_ the pool, Wilson,” Clint muttered as he followed him to the back. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Natasha swatted the back of his head as he moved by her and Bucky, and Clint let out a muffled laugh like he thought he was the funniest thing in the world. 

“Okay, okay, _I’m_ here!” Tony’s announcement pulled Steve’s attention back to the door. “You can stop worrying.”

With a shake of her head, Pepper rolled her eyes. 

“Tony.” She sighed, and then smiled at Steve. “Hello, Steve.” Pepper stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much for having us.”  
“Yeah, yeah, and all that stuff,” Tony mumbled. “More importantly,” He lifted the two items he had. “This is some bread bowl and dip thingy, and _this_ is some of my best scotch.”

From the corner of his eye, Steve could see Bucky go rigid, his hair slipping from Natasha’s comforting fingers as he stood up straight. 

“Oh, thanks, Tony, but, we don’t really have scotch here.” Steve explained.

Rather than being insulted--not that Steve really thought he’d be, though Bucky might have--Tony brightened up. 

“Ha! Great. Now I get to keep it.” He went to spin around to put the bottle back in his car, but waved first. “Hey, Buckster!”

Bucky wiggled his fingers in a wave, clearly holding in an awkward grin. 

“Let’s get a move on,” Natasha said, taking Bucky by the wrist to tow him along with her. “If we leave Barton out there too long unsupervised all your food will be gone in minutes.”

Actually, Clint was in the pool with Sam, with Hope yapping at them from the sides. Fury was over at the BBQ with Wendy trying to light the charcoal while Sharon and Maria were getting drinks and the next thing Steve knew, Bucky was tossing Natasha in the pool and Tony was zooming by him to do a cannonball into it. 

“Right on, Barnes!” Clint cheered.  
“Ooo,” Sam cooed. “Nat’s gonna whoop you.”

When Natasha popped back up, she swung her cover up around her head once and then flung it at Bucky. 

“Oh, you just wait, Bucky,” She wagged her finger at him. “I’ll get ya for that. You’ll see.”

Steve could tell by his face before she said that that Bucky had been a little nervous about what he’d done. By the way he exhaled through a smile, her teasing must have put him at ease and he took of his shirt, tossed it to Steve and hopped in with them. 

The evening was perfect, the exact way to wind the summer down. It was full of laughter and witty banter, good food, swimming, playing, dancing. Some of Steve’s favorite moments were when he was just sitting back and watch everyone else, sketchbook in his lap so he could jot down as much as he could. Natasha had told Bucky she’d get him back and she did right after they had eaten. He had plopped down next to her and tilted his head toward her, his way of asking for her to play with his hair without coming out and asking. But Natasha flicked her eyebrows up and lifted her chin in the air. Bucky gave her a pouty face and a whimper and started nuzzling against her, once again reminding Steve of a cat. 

Steve chuckled as he sketched out a quick drawing of Natasha with Bucky’s head on her shoulder, giving her big, puppy dog eyes which eventually wore her down enough that she gave Bucky what he want. That made Steve laugh even more. 

He drew Sam and Clint playing Frisbee, Hope leaping up trying to catch the toy midair. There was Fury bbqing, and Wendy slicing into cakes and pies, Sharon and Maria pushing Tony back into the pool, Pepper laughing with Bruce--who had come after his shift and was greeted by Bucky with his normal “Hey, Doc!”. Steve got Bucky laughing, and Bucky just watching along like he was doing. When the sun finally set, someone put on some music, so Steve was able to draw Bucky dancing with Natasha, and Natasha dancing with Sam and Clint, and Tony with Pepper, and Bucky dragging Bruce up. Maria challenged Clint to an eating contest--she won, he grumbled she cheated. 

The only moment that Steve worried over a little was when he saw Bucky reach into the cooler for a beer. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t prohibited from drinking alcohol, but his addiction counselor still advised against it. It was her thought that while Bucky was still in recovery, he should avoid any addictive substances, and that included just a casual beer. At first, Steve wasn’t sure what he should do. Bucky had never strayed from the advice Dr. Grey--or that of Dr. Strange--not anymore, so he didn’t know if he should say something or just ignore it. He even caught eyes with Wendy who seemed just as nervous as he felt. Just when Steve made up his mind to take Bucky aside and say something, Clint approached him instead and whispered something in his ear. Bucky shook his head and it looked like he was arguing with him. When Clint said something back to him, completely undeterred and unfazed by whatever Bucky tried to argue with, Bucky sighed and looked almost hurt. Then, he nodded and handed the beer over to Clint, who put it back in the cooler and tossed his own out before signing to Bucky, and whatever it was, it made Bucky smile. Clapping a hand on Bucky’s back, he steered him away from the drinks and back over to everyone else. 

When Bucky sat down next to Steve, he peered up like he was nervous. Steve decided right then and there that he wouldn’t say anything about it, or any other failures Bucky faced down if he didn’t bring it up himself. So he just smiled and put his arm around him. Bucky leaned into him. Something told Steve that Bucky knew that Steve had seen everything. 

“I love you.” He whispered.

Steve kissed the top of his head. 

“I love you, too.” Steve considered something for a moment. He had disappeared for a few minutes earlier in the evening and thought this was a good time to show him why. “Come inside with me for a minute.” Bucky glanced up at him, eyebrows pulled together. Steve grinned. “Trust me.”

A playful glint shined in Bucky’s eyes as he got up to follow Steve inside to steal a moment for themselves. Steve led him into the living room and paused, hoping Bucky would notice on his own. 

“What are we doing?” He asked.  
“Look around,” Steve said. “See anything different?”

It only took Bucky a few moments to see what he’d done. On the wall above the mantel was the painting Steve had kept hidden all this time. He could hear Bucky’s quick intake of breath.

“Steve!” He exclaimed. “When did...I thought I…” Bucky’s face crumpled. “I thought I ripped this up.”  
“You did,” Steve agreed. “But that was the old one. That one wasn’t right anyway.”  
“Is this the one…”  
“Yup. I told you to be patient.”

They both looked back to the painting, the one of everyone. Originally, it featured Sam, Clint, Natasha, Sharon, Maria, Burce, Tony, Pepper, and Fury. It had been half done last year when Bucky had thrown a fit and tore through it. That actually made it better. The one he was working on then was missing something, something very important. Bucky stepped up for a closer view and grazed his fingers over it, over the image of he and Steve cuddled together on the couch, surrounded the rest of their family, including Wendy, who stood behind them, a hand on both Steve and Bucky’s shoulder. And Hope was curled up on the floor in front of them as well. 

“ _I’m_ in this.” Bucky pointed out. “I wasn’t in it before. And so is Mom.”  
“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Of course you are. You mean everything to me, Bucky. And I love Mom. We’re a family.” He paused and asked, “We’re a family, right?”

Bucky spun around, huge smile on his face and happy tears glistening in his eyes. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“That’s what we are, isn’t it?” Bucky remarked. “We’re a _family_. I mean… _I’m_ in your family.”  
Steve shook his head. “No, Bucky. You’re part of _our_ family. We’re all a family.”

Bucky was grinning like Steve had never seen. His mouth opened once, then twice, until he settled on a happy sigh. 

Outside, the music was just loud enough to be heard clearly inside, and it had just switched to a slow song. Since no one had turned off, Steve held his hands up. 

“Dance with me, Bucky?” He requested. 

Somehow, Bucky’s smile lit up even brighter than it had been. He stepped into Steve’s dance stance, holding his hand and placing his other on Steve’s shoulder. Before Steve even moved, Bucky had his head resting on his chest, and breathing out a contented hum. 

Together they danced in their living room, in front of the portrait of their family, whole and complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SOO much for reading all of this, for sticking with me, Steve and Bucky during the wonderful journey. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, comments, whether one or several, I appreciate them all!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed! <33
> 
> I love friends! Come follow me on tumblr!
> 
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)
> 
> And I will be beginning to post a new full length fic fairly soon dealing with Steve, Bucky, and an arranged marriage. Here's a small preview:
> 
> “Please don’t make me do this.”
> 
> Bucky’s voice is weak and shaky. It barely even fills the unwelcoming room. It’s a bad room, in his opinion. The walls are too dark, the carpet scratchy beneath his barefeet, and the lighting all wrong. But then, as far as chapels go, this could be a lot worse.
> 
> His mother sighs as she rises from the seat at the vanity set hugging the wall furthest from him and comes over. Winifred Barnes is dressed in her finest for the occasion. Long, silky dress--colored champagne, the very drink Bucky would be drowning in tonight if things go according to his family’s wishes--a long slit up the left end, revealing her long, smooth leg. She must have taken great care in tightening her corset today, since her waist looks a tad bit smaller. 
> 
> “You must, James,” She tells him, for what seems to Bucky the millionth time since arriving at the chapel. “Do you want to see your family homeless? Me working as a seamstress? Your sister thrown out of school?”  
> “You know I don’t...that’s not…” Bucky can’t find the words. “It’s not fair.”  
> “Your father left us a good name and a pile of debt.” She explains as though this fact hadn’t been drilled into his head since just days after his father passed--just a few months ago. “If you don’t marry this boy, then all of us suffer.”
> 
> A pain presses into his chest. She’s right. To alleviate his family’s suffering, it’s Bucky who needs to step up and do the sacrificing. Winifred cannot. She’s in mourning--the fact that she’s not in black is nothing more than her rebelling in her own way--and cannot accept any suitor until at least a year. It wouldn’t be proper, words would be said, rumors of scandal and an affair. The Barnes’ name would be dragged through the mud. 
> 
> Though she’s been persistent and unrelenting when it came to finding Bucky a spouse, right now, a flicker of sympathy passes through her eyes. She places her hands at the sides of his neck and kisses his cheek.
> 
> “You’re right,” She admits. “It isn’t fair. But the world we live in is not always kind to those in it.”
> 
> His mother grazes her fingers over his left arm. It’s covered at the moment, the sleeve of his black shirt reaching his wrist, but his hand is still showing. Arm and hand made of metal. 
> 
> “I know.” Bucky whispers, pulling his arm behind his back.   
> “And as far as suitors go, this doesn’t seem like a bad match.”
> 
> She’s right about that, too. The Rogers have a good name, they have a wallet to back it up, and, according to their public lives, they genuinely seem nice. The Lord and Lady Rogers both have a seat in Parliament as well--two very well known voices in the government. 
> 
> Steve Rogers, the only son and heir to their fortune and position, is to be his husband. In less than an hour. The idea still leaves Bucky dizzy and sick to his stomach. His husband. Steve Rogers.
> 
> _________
> 
> Keep your eye open if you happen to be interested in following!!


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